Kiss Me, Not Her
by queenkatniss
Summary: Without warning, I brushed my hand against Ian's chest and leaned in for a kiss. I recieved the worst response ever - he pushed me away. "L-Lucy," he stuttered my name, his big hazel-blue eyes widened. "I'm... I'm with someone." / LUCIAN
1. Beat of My Heart

As normal as any other shooting day, most of the cast including myself resided on their technology gadgets, waiting to hear when the next scheduled blocking would occur. They were doing a scene between Alison, Noel, and Mona, so Sasha, Brant, and Janel were currently out of sight. The only sounds that rang in the set of the Marin bedroom were the tapping sounds of a keyboard, slurps of beverages, and Keegan's gentle strums on his guitar.

"Hey, who wants to group sing?" Keegan offered, raising his head. I shot my head away from my cell phone, smiling at the opportunity for group singing, something the cast did when the brown haired male brought an instrument around.

"I do," I replied, shutting off my phone. The conversation between my mom would have to wait. She was just introduced to texting by my older sister Maggie and, sadly enough, I waited for her for two minutes so that she could type up one word: Hi.

"I'll join too," Ashley and Shay spoke up simultaneously, something everyone was used to by now. They said everything at the same thing, did everything together, they were practically each other. Troian and Ian were already sitting on the ground around Keegan while Ash, Shay, and I took our spots, creating a circle. I resided in between Troian and Ian, the two people I was closest to on set.

"So, what song should we start with?" Troian spoke up. Different songs spat out within the circle, but everyone liked Ian's idea overall.

"Let's sing Luce's new song."

"Yeah, I think I know most of the lyrics to that," Ashley nodded.

"Don't worry," I said, flipping some of the flyaway strands of hair out of my face. "I'll lead the way."

"Alright, Captain Hale," Ian retorted jokingly, saluting at me with a sparkle in his eyes. His really gorgeous eyes...

Realizing I was staring at Ian a little too long, I snapped my head around to see if anyone had watched me. It seemed like no one saw... but then again, I _was_ working with actors.

Sooner than later, the passionate strums, mixed with knee pats and singing voices rang out. Smiles were plastered on everyone's faces, but none bigger than mine as I listened to the minimal lyric errors. The most came from Ashley as planned, but not as many as I expected. To know that they actually listened to my songs made my heart warm.

"_An old song on the radio that you grew up to and everybody knows..._" Everyone swayed back and forth to the catchy tune, clapping and laughing. Soon enough, dancing followed. Ian stood on his feet and pulled me up, swinging me in his arms before twirling me around and dipping me as a finale. I couldn't contain my laughter through out. Hoots and hollers rang out from those on the ground as Ian and I bowed for them as dramatically as we possibly could. I looked over at my close friend, catching his wink with a shy smile.

XxX

"So..." I heard Troian's voice beside me as soon as I stepped out of the building we taped our scenes for the show at. I knew exactly what she was going to say, but that wouldn't stop me from playing dumb. I've never actually said that I was interested in Ian to Troi, but I've never really denied it either.

"So?" I repeated her, looking down at the ground which didn't cast a single shadow due to the darkness. It was almost eleven at night, after all, but it most definitely wasn't the latest they had kept her there. Luckily, she didn't have to go back for the show too early the next day.

"Nuh uh, Lucy!" my friend exclaimed. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

I looked her way after taking a walk to the left and into the vast parking lot with a maximum of forty cars parked and all spread out across the cement floor. I spot my brand new car immediately.

"Lucy!"

"What?!" I laughed, giving in. "Fine! We danced, so what?"

"So what?" Troian repeated. "He likes you, that's what."

I shook my head, refusing to believe Ian would ever develop intimate feelings for me. He was handsome, charming, and nerdy in this attractive way. He could have any girl he wanted with a wink and a smirk, whether you were single or taken. That's the reason I couldn't risk it. I didn't want to get hurt.

"I saw something else too," she informed. Dang it, did she spot me ogling Ian like he was a chocolate fudge cake and I was a sugar addict who had gone a week without something sweet? "I saw him with a small black cubed box. You know, the kind that has rings in them. Particularly engagement rings."

The sound of this confused me. A lot. "What?" I said. "An engagement ring? Are you sure?" Maybe she had just made a mistake. Maybe she saw a small box that contained... what? What else besides a ring could've been in it?

"Am I ever wrong?" she asked rhetorically. "I mean, maybe we need to turn to black hoodies and stalk him down." A laugh followed her amusing joke. The funny actuality about it was that I could envision us in black hoodies following Ian's every move and every word.

"Maybe," I pretended to agree. "But, what do you think it is?" I questioned, reaching my car and leaning against the back. I needed to finish this conversation before going home, despite my eyes trying to force themselves to close. She shrugged in response.

"Whatever it is, it'll probably be for you," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder and gently caressing, showing that I could always talk to her. "I'm going to head home, but we're going to finish this tomorrow, alright Lucy?" she said in a strict voice, starting to walk into the darkness of the parking light.

"Good night," I managed to choke out, but I knew it would be too late, as Troian was long gone. I stepped into my car and started the engine, my thoughts clouded with one person - Ian. I always had a smile on my face whenever he was brought up or was around me. No matter how much I didn't want to feel vulnerable or weak around him, I ended up doing just that.

I could remember the very first make out session we had for the show, located on top of a bathroom stall, which wasn't an actual bathroom. Most of the time, I could get guys really excited in a sexual way, but somehow, that didn't work with Ian. He was either doing really good hiding it, or he wasn't interested at all.

Another sign he probably doesn't like me, I thought to myself. Discouraging thoughts weren't my thing, but he caused me to do all sorts of crazy things.

XxX

Collapsing on the bed, I wagered my options on staying awake to get a headstart in memorizing lines as Sasha or Keegan would do or letting the world escape by closing my eyes and sleeping.

_Sleep above all,_ I thought to myself. A jingle ring from my purse alerted me that I had a text, but before I could register that into my brain, I fell asleep.

**I didn't know how important that message would be until I read it the next day.**

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A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed this first part! The next chapter should be posted sometime this week. (Reviews, follows, and favorites tend to speed up my typing process! ;))


	2. Flirt With Me

_Troi: THE RING IS FOR YOU (12:04 AM)_

Word by word, that's exactly what was on my phone when I woke up the next morning. My heart raced a little, but not as much as one would expect. It was a little too... _surreal_. We weren't even dating - no, we hadn't even admitted our feelings to each other (more like, I hadn't admitted _my_ feelings to _him)_, and he wanted take a giant leap? Not happening.

So, why was I desperately wanting to believe it?

_Me: How do you know?! (10:49 AM)_

At that point, I was really confused, though there was a huge smile etched across my petite face. I used that energetic opportunity to hop out of bed, brush my teeth and took a shower, singing at the top of my lungs. No one was home since I lived by myself, and the front door was locked, so I wouldn't have to worry about running into anyone. Unless it was my mother or my sister, since I had given them each spare keys.

I came back to my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my head to dry off my hair and a white puffy robe I had gotten pretty recently. Plopping on the edge of my bed, I snatched my cell phone into my palm and opened it to look at the time. But the clock wasn't the only important thing on my phone - another text from Troian.

_Troi: Shay told me! I'll call you in an hour to explain everything. (11:02 AM)_

I brought my fingernails up to my lips to gnaw at them, but I immediately stopped myself. It was a bad habit I had stuck to and I was determined to kick it off. I filed off the ragged sides of my nails anyways, so whenever I accidentally bit my nails, I would just file away the awkward shaped part.

What could Shay have told Troian? And why couldn't she have informed me instead? I mean, we _did_ have that small dispute from a year ago, and ever since, we haven't been as close as we were. My ex-boyfriend and her hooked up a little after him and I broke up, and I was really upset for some reason. Even though our relationship ended on a good note, I wasn't that happy with Shay. Was that okay? For me to be jealous? It was all in the past now, but for some reason, that timeline was far from being forgotten.

_Shay and I are smooth and steady now_, I told myself. _She would tell you anything if there was something to be informed about._

I didn't convince myself very well of that.

I had about an hour and a half to get to shooting. Sighing at my knowledge of knowing the late time I'd be staying there today, I strolled over to my closet and eyed all the clean clothes, debating whether I wanted to look casual-lazy or casual-dressy. A floral dress caught my eye. I hadn't remembered wearing that yet, so casual-dressy it was.

An hour later, I was in my car, on my way to the Subway a block away from set. It was already twelve thirty and I had lost track reading over the last scene of the script, which was what I was going to be doing today. It involved a huge Aria and Spencer portion, as well as the five ladies, which included Emily, Hanna, and Alison. Those were my favorite kinds of scenes. We had the most fun and the most giggles when we were all together and acting.

As I rolled up to a perfect parking spot in front of Subway, I heard my phone ring from in my purse, which was located in the passengers' seat. I eagerly dug through and found it, pressing the green talk button and pressing it against my ear. I didn't even have to look at the name to know it would be Troian.

"Hey," I greeted quickly, taking a step out of my car. I hadn't noticed how gloomy the day looked until the clouds suddenly shielded whatever light the sun had casted over.

"What time are you coming?" she asked frantically. It sounded like she was outside. I knew the sound of wind attacking the speaker of a phone when I heard it. I could hear other people through the phone having distant conversations, so she wasn't alone. And I definitely didn't want her saying anything about Ian in front of other people.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I replied, pushing the door to the food place with my one hand. I was trying to adjust my bag around my arm, but it was pretty hard to do when you were simoultaneously attempting to talk on the phone and opening the door. Unfortunately, I smacked into another wall in front of me. Dazed, I actualized what I really bumped into - a person.

I was such a klutz.

"Sorry!" I blurted out. "I didn't mean to bump int- oh, oh my gosh, hi!"

The familiar, scruffy, handsome face of Brant Daugherty, one of my co-workers, stood in front of me, practically taunting me with his eyes.

"Woah, Luce. You alright there?"

I smirked at his trials to swoon me, something he did all the time, but only as a joke. We were pretty good friends, especially since he's had his career boost and a season on Dancing With The Stars and our conversations have been vast with experiences. He's the one person I enjoy talking with on an intellectual level as well, despite his occasional flirtatious remarks.

"Well, I'm not standing naked in front of a crowd and I haven't joined a cult yet, so taking those into account, I think I'm alright," I joked, peering up at his towering figure. It hit me that Troian was still on the phone... but the phone wasn't in my hand. My eyes went wide, tucking some of my long side bangs behind my ears and looking down to search for my phone. Where was it?

"Hello? Troian, baby! Good to talk to you again."

My head shot up, only to see Brant with my phone pressed against his ear. Confused was all that I could be before I seized it out of his hands.

"Hello? Hello?" I said through the speaker, trying to figure if my friend - who was supposed to tell me some intriguing news about Ian - was still there. I scooted past Brant and to a booth, hearing his footsteps scuffle behind me.

"You want me to leave?" he whispered sincerely, beginning to walk backwards as he pointed at the door.

All I wanted was a sub.

Feeling compunctious, I shook my head and motion for him to sit down while I stood up, mentioning that I would be back after I took the important call. He signaled his understanding and I scurried off to the bathroom. Luckily, the remaining lady inside was just drying her hands.

"What the hell are you doing with Daughetry?" Troian rasped in my ear after moments of spotting whether she was on the line or not.

I uttered a sigh. Dang it. I had completely forgotten about her distate for the ladies' man. She wasn't fond of how provocative he was, but I didn't understand how that was possible. Unlike most guys that jumped ship, Brant was way more considerate, more courteous, more mannered. He only did what he had to do... I could only guess and defend his actions.

"We only bumped into each other just now, Troi!" I exclaimed. "Goodness."

"So, he's somewhere else?" she asked, more of a question to herself rather than me. "He left set twenty minutes ago for a lunch break at the Quarry."

The Quarry was a collections of stores, but instead of being mushed into one building like a mall, all the stores were seperated and lined all around the block.

"He is at the Quarry," I told her, observing my reflection through the bathroom mirror. "I'm there too. We're in Subway."

I could feel the judgement radiate off of her.

"Mark my words, Lucy," she started, "if things don't work out with Ian, you're going to turn to Brant. Mark my words."

"No, we're not!" I defended. I felt like a child who was being scolded for doing something wrong. What Brant and I had was strictly platonic. Why was she so certain him and I had a thing? Was it because our characters on the show, Aria and Noel, had a previous thing and she was judging based off of that? No. Her and Keegan's characters' were in a current relationship as well. I considered mentioning my thoughts to her, but I knew what she would say back. 'It's different!,' she'd defend. 'I'm engaged to someone that isn't Keegan.'

"Whatever, Luce. Look, I called you to tell you about the ring, not to scold you," she said with a change of tone, more relaxed than she was before. I felt more at ease as well. I hated opening topics that caused us to argue.

"Okay," I listened closely. I could hear her breathing through the phone, a weird static noise I knew wasn't coming from the phone, and a closing door. Then... silence.

"Hello?" I was extremely concerned, especially at how quiet it was on the other line. It took me too long to conclude her reason of disappearing from the phone - the line had been disconnected.

What just happened?

Disappointed that we spent what little time we had arguing over a guy, I shoved my phone in my back pocket and exited the empty bathroom, finding Brant chatting up a girl who had departed without a word as soon as I emerged. Staring at him strangely, I slid into my side of my booth, introduced to a foot long sub sliced in half.

"Who was the girl?" I asked, taking the bread off to reveal the ingredients. Lettuce, tomatos, layers of different cheeses, some meats I wasn't familiar, sweet and sour sauce, and other ingredients covered up. I grabbed the pickles off the sandwich, dangling it in the air and tossing it on the napkin located right by my arm. The taste of pickles made me want to throw up. I would happily choose to pop in ten sourheads at the same time rather than ten pickles. Not that my tiny mouth could contain it all.

"A fan of the show," he answered, picking up the pickles I threw aside and popping them into his mouth before picking up his side of his sandwich. His teeth reminded me of a meat grinder, ready to chew whatever was handed to him. "She mentioned Noel was her favorite character. I wouldn't blame her, have you seen that handsome devil?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't resist giggling away. "What scenes have you been working on today?" I asked, getting to work on cutting my one 6-inch sub into two 3-inch subs with the help of a knife and my tiny baby hands.

"Uh..." he started, chewing and thinking. "I think I'm working on something with Sash again, but I finished a scene with Troian this morning." He gulped down his sandwich. "She's so passionate when she acts. I almost actually believe she doesn't like me."

If only he knew.

I chuckled, going along with what he was saying. "Yeah, yeah. She's something, alright."

"Marlene says you and I are going to have a scene together in episode ten," he notified, taking another big bite. My eyes lit up.

"Really? Do you know if Bra- not you, I mean, do you know if Noel's going to be on the -A team while we have our scene?" I asked eagerly.

"I don't know for sure, but she did hint something about it- hey, what's up, man?"

"What?" My eyebrows knitted together, looking behind me to see who he was greeting.

Sauntering towards us with a half-smile and sparkly hazel eyes was the one and only:

**Ian.**

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A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the response to this story! I was actually planning to post the next chapter at the end of the week, but it seems like it's being liked, so it's posted way earlier. I can't wait for you guys to read the next chapter, it's based off of the current summary. More reviews, favorites, and follows encourage me to post faster.


	3. Almost There

Contrary to my belief, I wouldn't expect Brant and Ian to be good friends. Ian was really nerdy and goofy and if he didn't have the life he had now, I would bet that he would spend his days creating model sculptures and failing cooking, whereas Brant was more dynamic and easily adaptive. And yet, there they were, greeting each other like they were long-lost friends when they had only seen each other barely an hour ago on set.

As soon as we settled down with our welcomes, I offered Ian the rest of my sub, which was half finished.

"No, you need to eat," he shook his head, looking over at the counter where the area to order food was located. "I'll get something for myself. That's what I came here for, anyways."

He adjusted his beanie and fleeted the booth seat right next to me without another word. I watched him order, but I couldn't hear him over the many voices chattering in the cafeteria. He pointed towards a couple items as the worker behind the thin glass snatched different items to place on the toasted, thick bread. His eyebrows were scrunched in concentration, choosing what he wanted as if it were a life choice. Did I mention how cute he looked in his beanie?

"Earth to Lucy?"

My head snapped back to Brant, who I had almost forgotten was there. I told myself I wouldn't do that after yesterday, when I did the same thing and Troian had caught me. Tons of excuses flew into my head before I could get out a word, but none too clever to be a plausible reason.

"Wh-what?" I stammered, eyeing him for any detection.

"Were you listening?" he questioned. "Or were you staring at your boyfriend?"

Dang. He saw. Who wouldn't see me practically drooling at the sight of him?

_Get it together, Lucy,_ I told myself. _You're an actor. Sell it. _

"What boyfriend?" I played dumb, pulling out my phone from my pocket and typing in the code to access the contents. I pushed the remains of my sub towards the skeptical male. "Want?"

He slid it back in a deliberate manner, raising an eyebrow. He doubted it, I could tell by the quizzical look on his face.

As Ian came along, I gave Brant a stare, warning with my eyes that this conversation wouldn't continue when the topic was headed our way - or would continue, _ever_.

As Ian took his seat next to me, our legs clashed together.

"Sorry!" I squeaked, scooting over a little.

He looked over, his lips curving upwards. "No worries, Lucy Goosy." I wouldn't let anyone but him call me that, since it was the nickname my father used to call me when I was a young girl.

"Yeah, Lucy Goosy," said the other male with a sparkle of amusement. "No worries, okay?"

I was going to kill him.

"Shut up, Brant," I rolled my eyes, proceeding to my phone and having a serious debate on whether I should go on Twitter or Facebook first. I decided Twitter.

"What?" he said shrugging, as if he didn't do anything wrong or out of the ordinary. I looked over at the male sitting next to me from the corner of my eye. He was being more attentive to his packed sandwich rather than us. I was relieved.

"You're on set today, right?" Ian asked. I nodded in response. "Great."

Out of nowhere, two girls around the age twelve or thirteen popped up, shy smiles on their faces.

"H-hi," one of them piped. She had chestnut colored hair that went down to her stomach and a pale complexion. She had a babyface, but for some reason, she seemed older than she appeared. "Could you maybe sign an autograph on our notepads?" They held out two notebooks towards us, along with a purple pen.

"Of course!" Ian responded with a huge grin, accepting one of the notebooks while Brant took the other one. They scribbled their fan signatures on the paper and synchronously handed it for me to sign. I grabbed the one in Brant's hand first, squiggling my name, which was different from my real signature. I was told that it was safer to have two different types for safety reasons, in case someone wanted to forge my name on a credit card, a bill, or something that could corrupt anything important. I signed the notebook in Ian's hand right after and they had given it back to the young girls.

"Thank you!" they proclaimed at the same time, scurrying off to wherever they were located previously.

"Aw, I love fans," I smiled. They made my day, especially the shy ones that approached us.

"Same," Brant agreed. "Especially the tall, beautiful, ones."

I scoffed as Ian burst into fits of laughter. They did a man handshake before looking over at me and laughing once again.

"So, how was that Europe trip? You went to... what was it, Italy and France or something?" Ian asked Brant in a quieter manner after their laughs were dying down.

A smile grew on the tan guy, delighted to explain about his trip. I was somewhat interested as well, since my music producer was talking about setting up a Europe tour for my new album.

"It was _amazing_," he emphasized, "I went to those places, yeah, along with Germany, Spain, and... Denmark, I think."

"Germany's where I was born," Ian apprised. I knew that, but I didn't want to sound futile and blurt that out.

"Oh, so I met your people?" Brant laughed. "Germany was absolutely amazing."

Ian nodded, but due to his stuffed mouth of sub, he couldn't respond with any words. I decided to continue his inquiry.

"I really want to go to one of those places," I jumped in. "Which was your favorite?"

He considered it for a while, biting at his upper lip. "I think I'd have to say.. god, I don't know! I can't decide between any of those." He smirked.

"Hey!" Ian blurted. "What about Germany, hm? I think that's your favorite."

I laughed at his statement, covering my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Fine, fine," Brant gave in, laughing alongside the both of us. "Germany's my favorite. Happy?"

"Very."

"Good."

They continued to talk, but a different topic that I wasn't too interested in. I continued to tap at my phone, going through some comments on one of my recent tweets. A lot of positive comments, some intriguing ones, some negative ones. Nothing new, but the positive ones never failed to make me smile. I pulled out my camera and took a few photos of myself before holding it out away from my face.

"C'mon, guys! Get in the picture," I instructed, waving at them.

"Picture time," Brant said, having to lean over to get inside while Ian had easy access to the picture. I snapped a few, and each time our faces were different - serious, goofy, dramatic. There was one where Ian kissed my cheek and Brant dramatically gasped as a pose for the picture while my hand was over my hand in a shocked way.

"Perfect," I said, sliding the phone back into my personal bubble before clicking on Instagram to post one of them.

"I think we'd better head back to set," Ian suggested. "It's almost one."

And with that, we threw away our food waste and exited. Since we all had cars parked there, we decided we'd just meet each other back at work.

**xXx**

"Change of plans," Leslie, one of the main directors, notified Shay, Ashley, and I, who were huddled in a corner on our phones. Leslie towered over us, pointing at Shay. "Since Troian isn't here, we're going to have to switch things up."

"Wait," I interrupted. "Why isn't she here? She called me and told me she was here this morning."

Leslie shook her head. "If she was here, it wasn't to work. She didn't check her card in and we've been trying to contact her since noon."

What? That couldn't have been right. I had talked to Troian just that same morning, just a little after noon in the Subway bathroom. Was she in trouble? The way our conversation ended began to unsettle me, twisting my stomach into a knot.

"Weird," Shay mumbled, ruffling her hands into her wavy, ombre, studio curled hair.

"Very," Leslie admitted. "So, we're going to have you-" she pointed at Shay, "-decide whether you want us to call Lindsey for scene fifteen or if you want to go home."

"Call up Lindsey," she replied instantly. "I didn't drive all the way here to drive back."

"Alright. But that's only if she answers the phone and agrees to come down," Leslie cautioned.

"It's worth a shot," Shay shrugged.

Leslie nodded before turning to the blonde residing in between Shay and I. "Ash, you have a scene with Sasha, so stay put."

Ashley's eyes were glued to her cell phone, but she signaled that she heard what she said.

"You can go to makeup, Lucy," Leslie said. "You have a scene with Ian in a few minutes."

I deliberately stood up as if I wasn't too interested, but I was. I loved working with Ian. "Do you know what scene we're gonna do today?" I asked.

"Of course," she replied, and then I attained how ridiculous my question was. She was the one that was directing the scene, of course she would know what scene we were doing. She laughed, as if she knew what was going on in my thought process. "We're doing scene twenty four."

My nonchalant nods were no match for the smile that I tried to withhold. It was a kiss scene.

**xXx**

"I made a mistake, Aria," said Ian, or 'Ezra,' with a soft tone as he approached me. The amount of cameras, as well as the microphone dangling right above me, didn't nerve me at all. It was a normal part of shooting.

"You lied to me!" I shouted, trying to visualize the sad part of The Notebook as clear as I could. Hot tears began to swell up in my eyes, my bottom lip trembling. "Y-You don't know how much you hurt me, Ezra. You don't." I followed the blocking I was instructed to do, to take slow, cautious steps towards him. "I know, I know you were hurt by A, and I know you aren't a monster. But you have to understand why I feel like our relationship is built on a lie."

Ian shook his head, taking my small hand into his. "I do. I understand."

"Wait!" I heard Leslie's voice from behind. "Let's try that again, except more tears, Lucy. Start from.." I could hear frantic pages flipping. "Start from, 'You lied to me.'"

My line. I flipped my hair out of my face and trudged back a few steps before glancing at my friend, who was standing a few feet away, touching his hair. I was supposed to be fluctuating tears, but I couldn't help smiling. I knew that he liked the touch of his hair after it was fixed, since it was really fluffy. I diverted my attention away from him and began to well up tears. I waited for the word 'action' before proceeding.

"You lied to me!" I said, more louder and more dramatic than before. "You don't know how much you hurt me, Ezra. You don't." As before, I took the slow steps in Ian's direction, continuing my lines. "I know, I know you were hurt by A, and I know you aren't a monster. But you have to understand why I feel like our relationship is built on a lie."

"I do," Ian acknowledged, gently capturing my hands. "I understand." We were instructed to look into each others eyes, and I sniffled for extra emphasis. He brought his hands up to my face, cupping my chin in his and wiping the tears off my face. I had never noticed the grey-ombre flakes that danced around his pupils, right where the other colors clashed. His eyes were so perfect, just like him.

My lips continued to tremble, but my breath steadied as his face inched closer to mine. What did the script say again? Something about how Ezra got closer, but it took too long, so Aria closed in for the kiss. I went with my instinct and just when our faces had a proximity of two inches between, I smashed my lips against his, tasting a mix of peppermints and the sandwich he munched on barely an hour or two ago. My arms unfolded and reached out for the back of his neck, my fingers intertwining together to rest as Ian's hands slid down my body, sending shivers down my spine.

"Wait!" I heard Leslie say for the second time. "Ian, go back and trail your hands down her sides again. We want to get an upclose shot of that."

I knew this scene was going to take a long time, but I didn't mind. If I could kiss Ian all day, I would.

**xXx**

I stepped into my car with the biggest smile on my face. It was five in the afternoon, which meant Ian and I spent about four hours shooting that scene. My lips were swollen but it was definitely well worth the reward. Yes, I knew it was only a stage kiss. Yes, I knew that it wasn't real. But wasn't I allowed to feel that way? I could practically hear Troian's squeals from all the way over here.

Troian. The moment she popped into my head, I slipped my phone out of my pocket and dialed her number, remembering the chilling feeling I had when I was told she wasn't on set. As I did so, I turned on my car and waited for the engine to heat up, cracking open a window while I was at it. Her number took me to voicemail after a few rings. I called a few more times, each and every trial with no response. I sighed, trying to think of a logical explanation. When none entered my head, I decided I'd just call her later or visit her in the morning.

I pulled out of my spot and turned around, but hit the brakes as hard as I could when I saw a flash of blue and red. _I almost hit a person!_ I face palmed when I saw who I was about to run over.

"Are you trying to kill me, Lucy?" Ian asked rhetorically, slightly alarmed, but with the same goofy smile he always had on. "What, you hated the makeout scene so much, you wanted to punish me for it?"

_Way to go, Lucy,_ I thought to myself.

I stepped out of the car and placed a hand over my heart, almost shocked by how fast my heartbeat was pumping. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Ian!" I brought my hand up to my head, scratching.

"It's fine, really," he waved it away, as if I had only bumped into him or something just as small. That's why I liked him - he didn't take things too serious. Including a near-death situation. "I know a way you could pay me back, if you're up for the challenge."

What would it be? Something bad? Something good? Either way, I wouldn't refuse.

"I want to give you something. But you have to come over to my house."

The first thing that popped into my head was the ring that Troian was telling me about. Everything was coming together. This was way too big to be just a coincidence.

Ian was going to propose to me at his house.

**xXx**

The last time I was at Ian's house, we were hosting a video chat with some fans, which was in January. It was now April and the living room looked completely different. For one, the couch was switched from one side of the wall to the other. The carpets were switched out and the lights were more fluorescent, but that could be another reason, like the lighting outside. The place looked really... _girly_.

"The place looks different, huh?" He practically read my thoughts. "A friend of mine wanted to switch everything up."

"Your friend has interesting taste," I laughed.

"Yeah, I still don't think she understands she tampered with a man's house, not a woman's house," he joined in, laughing with me. "Oh, come with me. Let me give you your gift."

This was it. The guy I had adored ever since our first makeout scene was going to ask me to marry him. What was I going to say? Was I even ready to get married? What would my parents say? What would my sister say? And my castmates? And the fans? And the critics? And the world?

He placed his hand right on my back and guided me up two flights of stairs, where the attic was at. I had never entered the attic, but he probably set it up really nice, since it was where he was going to propose.

He opened the door and revealed the contents of the room. There wasn't a ring. The room wasn't decorated neatly. But in the center of the attic stood the most breathtaking item ever. I took a few steps towards it, my mouth agape.

There was a canvas being propped on a easel, and painted on the canvas was a girl, from head to waist. I knew who it was right away. _Me._ He captured my essence so perfectly. My straight hair with the slight waves at the bottom, the very distinct crinkles at the tips of my lips when I grinned really big, even the insignificant scar on my wrist was on. He didn't create any false figures, like my curves or my dull colored eyes. It was just... perfect.

"I- wow," was all I could say. I couldn't take my eyes off of the drawing.

"Do you like it?" he asked, stepping towards me from behind. I turned myself to face him. Like it? I loved it.

"A lot, yeah," I told him. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He sheepishly smiled at my response. "I drew it because I've never really had a chance to thank you for what you helped me get through last year. And I thought it would be kinda stupid to say, 'Oh, yeah, thanks for helping me out last year.' So, I decided to do this instead."

I knew what he meant by last year. His mother had passed away, and it was a very violent death too. She had an unexpected stroke and she was paralyzed, and the doctors' had said she was in severe pain, but she couldn't call out for help or explain where she was hurting the most. After she went to war with herself for several days, it was too much, and she deceased. I stayed with him, comforted him, bought him groceries and cooked food, and I even stayed with him some nights, but in a different bed. I could still remember the day I walked in Ian's house, him sobbing and clutching a picture of his mother and him, whispering, 'Why? Why did you go?' Everything he did absolutely broke my heart.

But.. he didn't have to thank me. It was something I would've done for anyone.

"You're an extraordinary person, Lucy," he breathed, holding me in his arms, his warmth just enough for me to hang onto. "I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest. I don't know why — maybe the moment had caught up with me — but I felt tears start up in my eyes for the second time that day, except the second time was real.

As I leaned back to look at him, I could see his eyes were slightly watery as well, bringing memories from the year before back into my head. Without warning, I brushed my hand against Ian's chest and leaned in for a kiss. I recieved the worst response ever - he pushed me away.

**"L-Lucy," he stuttered my name, his big hazel-blue eyes widened. "I'm... I'm with someone."**

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys! I apologize for not posting yesterday, I know that I got a lot of reviews (which I appreciate so much, thank you!) and I promised I'd post a chapter everyday, as long as I got any kind of feedback, but I was down with a sinus and I was throwing up and I was just a _total mess_. So, as an apology, I will be doing everything I can to post TWO long chapters today! Which means this cliffhanger won't be too long and you'll find out how their conversation continues. Please keep in mind that my sinus is still around, so the next chapter might not be posted until way later tonight. {Reviews, favorites, and follows encourage the typing process to go faster!}


	4. Red Light

There was a video I remember watching in class when I was nine, about a dolphin who had lost his way from his parents and it didn't know what to do or where to go. I could never emphasis with that clip until now, because I could finally relate with the dolphin. We both felt lost. Confused. Heartbroken. Deserted. We both felt like there was no hope. And there was nothing we could do about it.

I must have mumbled something that Ian heard, because he started stringing words of apologies, but I didn't remember what I said because I was in a state of disturbance. What did he say again? He was with someone? Like... in a relationship?

That's when everything started falling into place.

"I thought - I didn't want to send you a message of romance with this gift," Ian shook his head, sorrow and remorse stinging his eyes. "I'm so s-"

"The ring," I blurted out. "Is that who it's for? Your girlfriend?"

I studied him, reading him like an open book. I continued to put the pieces together. "Why didn't you tell me? I don't even know what your girlfriend's name is, much less the fact that you're going to be married! Tell me, why didn't you say anything to me?"

He fell silent, as if he couldn't say the answer without also saying another thing that could be just as toxic. I had a gut feeling I knew what it was.

"Did you know?" I questioned, beginning to feel a burning feeling clogging my throat. "Is that why you haven't told me about her? You knew this whole time that I really like you, way more than a friendship should go, so you decided to keep this away from me? That's the reason, isn't it."

When he said nothing, I knew that every single thing I said was on point. The stupid ring wasn't for me, it was for this unknown woman. She was probably tall, foreign, tan, and beautiful, unlike me. Everything inside me wanted to lunge at the painting behind me and tear it up into a billion pieces and throw it right at the liar in front of me. Instead, I fled.

I wasn't a track star, but if someone was watching my speed from the top of the stairs to the bottom, I bet they'd put money that I was. I sprinted through the living room and picked up the phone from his couch, almost tripping over the mini glass table. _The girly room;_ it must have been decorated by his girlfriend. She probably has her own room too.

I heard my name being called from a distance, the sounds of footsteps pattering, getting louder and louder with every step. I took the opportunity to lunge for the main hall and for the door, but there he stood, the usual goofy smile completely gone. I tried to pass him for the door, but I felt his strong hands grasp my arm.

"Let go!" I screeched, falling to the ground. I suspected he was startled because he let go. I stood up, keeping my eyes on him before pouncing for the door, slamming it behind me. My chest heaved, still collecting everything that happened within the ten minute span. After entering my car and locking the door, I leaned my head back and began to cry, the sobs rocking my body destructively. That's all I could do. Cry. It's all I was doing that day anyways, why not a third time?

"What did I do to deserve this? What did I do?" I uttered, my sobs turning into wails. I could have sworn he was just as infatuated with me as I was with him. Was I the only idiot that believed that? Was I really so ludicrous?

No. Troian thought it. Shay thought it. Ashley thought it. Brant thought it. Hell, my own mother thought it.

I hadn't noticed how cloudy the sky was until raindrops pattered against my windows, interrupting my long weep session. I hadn't even noticed how long I had been there, but it didn't matter. All I knew was that I had to get out. Now.

I opened the engine, my eyes trailing around. From the corner of my eye, I could see something from the window of Ian's house. I turned my head. It was hard to tell when the rain had turned from a small drizzle to a downpour, but I could have sworn I had seen Ian watching me. Shaking my head, I turned my head to the road and started driving. It couldn't have been him. Why?

Because he didn't care about me anymore.

**xXx**

The knocking at my door didn't phase me at all. I was on my back rested in bed, my eyes as lifeless as death, which stared up at the ceiling. I heard a familiar voice from all the way down the hall, which led me to believe that this person figured out the door was unlocked, but I proceeded to ignore it.

"Lucy? Luce, where you at? I brought pizza!"

Silence. I didn't want any visitors. Couldn't I be alone, for once? I'd be alone when I was an old lady, so why not learn now?

"There you are."

The voice was right at the door. I heard a thump and then my bed began to shift at the movement of another person sitting right next to me. My eyes were closed, but I already knew who it was, just by the signature smell of green apples.

Ashley.

"Honey, are you okay?" she stroked her hand through my brown hair. "We miss you on set."

I continued to stare straight, neglecting her touches of support.

"Are you gonna come back anytime soon?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. What was she expecting me to say? Yes? I wouldn't be around for a while, no matter what. I wouldn't. I refused to. Ashley didn't need to know that, though.

"I can't keep covering you for long, you know."

_Yes, you can_, I thought to myself. I had told her to tell them I was down with a contagious strep throat because I stood in the rain. Half of it was true - I did sit in the rain for hours, on the steps of my doors, the night that Ian had told me about his girlfriend. Even though he truly didn't tell me. I found out on my own. But, I didn't have strep throat. Troian wasn't answering her phone that night, so I told Ashley to tell Carlos, our show manager, that I wouldn't be there for a few days.

I understood why I needed to be there, since I hadn't shown up for five or six days, but no one understood what I was going through. Not that I'd tell them. Not unless I wanted a chance of pity and sorrow shooting my way, along with a huge chance of the situation showing up in magazines. I hadn't even told Troian about what I've been going through. She believed the whole strep throat story and texted me every chance she got. I replied every other day, not to worry her. I had forgotten to ask her about the reason she disappeared from set, however, I didn't feel like it.

Everything was still, except for the sounds of the strokes of my hair being pet. She spoke up a few more times, making small talk and informing me of essential things I've needed to be told about.

"Oh, and Shay and Sasha say hi, and Ian and Troian told me to tell you that you should call them. And Brant told me to tell you that you need to get your cute ass back to set, and I agree with him."

"Go back," I spoke up for the first time in days. My voice sounded very foreign to me. Very rugged, you could say. I sat up on my bottom. "You said what?"

"Uh.." It took Ashley a moment to retrace her words, which normally would've made me laugh, had she not mentioned Ian's name. "Oh yeah, I said that Shay and Sasha sa-"

"No, not that," I cut in, shaking my head. "Right after that."

"Troian and Ian said that you need to call them," she said, eyeing me very tentatively. "Why? What is it? What's wrong?"

She wrapped her hand around my arm, eyes darting to find emotion. What just happened? What gave it away?

I didn't feel the amount of tears in my eyes until it flooded, becoming too much to contain before spilling against my skin, which had turned a porcelain color within days. Images of the painting flashed into my head, of Ian's sheepish smile after he gave it to me, of the summer I spent comforting him and washing dishes and cooking for him. My mouth curved into a frown as I looked down, sniffling and wiping my damp face with the back of my hand. I couldn't take it. I felt so vulnerable, so weak.

Not another word came out of Ashley's mouth as she cupped my small body into hers. I bit down on my lower lip, a trick I had learned to contain crying, but it wasn't working. Not that time, at least. My hands abruptly grasped the blonde's sweater by the arm, taking my time to weep as she held me tightly. I wanted to spill the beans and tell her everything that had been going on, but if I told her, then I'd risk looking like a fool. Repeating the scenarios in my head made the situation sound extremely pathetic. The fact that I had missed almost a week of work for a crush that was getting married to someone else. But he wasn't just a crush that had formulated a few weeks ago. It had been over four years. And four years was a very long time, in my dictionary.

I needed to tell her. I had to. If I didn't get advice right then and there, I knew I would be stuck in that house for another week.

Rising up, I wiped any remains from my face and looked at her for a while.

Then everything came out.

I told her about how much I liked him, about the night Troian mentioned the ring, about how Ian invited me over to show me the painting and how I kissed him, how he told me he was getting engaged and married soon after. I told her every detail, from the huge ones to the tiny ones that were raked out with my brain. I watched her reactions go from being shocked to pleased to wistful. After I finished, she leaned in to kiss the side of my cheek - but it was more of a French side kiss, where our cheeks merely brushed and she made a 'mwah' sound with her lips. She stared at me long and hard, not with pity, but as if she were slightly enthralled.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked me.

"Honestly? I don't know," I answered truthfully. What was I going to do? I didn't want to go back to set, I didn't want to stay in the house forever, and I didn't want to go out and face the world. "What _should_ I do, Ash?"

She took nothing but time, trying to think of a good answer.

"Illogically, I'd say we should go find some shovels and bury him in his own freakin' backyard and replace Sasha - or Alison, or whoever," she nodded, earning the smallest of smiles from me. "But.. I think, since he wants to talk to you, you should listen."

That wasn't the response I wanted to hear. I didn't want to talk to him, I didn't even want to be near him. Not anytime soon. "No. I refuse." I crossed my arms across my chest defensively.

"Hear me out," she started, putting her hands up. "I said you should listen to him. Meaning, you don't talk." She smiled mysteriously, as if there was a meaning by not talking. I was confused. She sighed, picking up on my perplexed look. "When you don't talk, you're showing him that you don't need him anymore, and he'll come running back to you."

"But I do need him," I blurted, flustered that I actually just said that. Really, did I just say that? _How embarrassing_. It didn't seem like Ashley picked up on it though, more because she was contemplating her 'genius' plan.

"He doesn't know that," she winked. "If you do that, he'll be dumping his current skank for you before you can say 'wedding bells.'"

Maybe she was right. The plan seemed so far-fetched that it actually seemed like it would work. I responded by gesturing that I understood.

"Then you two'll be together, get married, and live with your cute little dog. 'Kay?"

"'Kay." She embraced me, having a final hug to top it off. She never failed to make me smile, the reason we were friends for so long. "How about that pizza?"

Her eyebrows rose, and I could tell that she was just remembering that she had dropped the box at the door. She scurried off to snatch it up and got under the sheets next to me, opening the box.

"I know you like veggie better," Ashley said, "but I was up for pepperoni today."

"Pizza is pizza, you know?" I chuckled, picking a slice up and chomping on the tip. I was going to ask her a question, but her phone began ringing, so I put it off.

"It's Shay, hold on." She pressed talk and greeted her friend.

As I took a second bite, Ashley's tone frightened me a little bit. I turned my head, watching the look of disturb plastered on her face.

"What? A-Are you serious? How?" she inquired. I continued to stare, putting my unfinished slice back into the box and closing it, putting it aside. "I'm on my way."

She shut the phone and turned to me. I searched her face, shaking my head in perplexity.

"What's going on?" I questioned as she stood up and grabbed her purse from the floor.

"It's Janel," she replied.

"What about her?"

**"She was in a really bad accident. Shay said she lost a lot of blood and they don't know if she's going to make it."  
**


	5. Lost And Found

Many _many_ people were in Janel's room. In fact, some people had to stand outside just so that the room wouldn't get too full and Janel wouldn't panic. I was a complete mess walking in with my Aeropostale sweater and my pink fuzzy pajama pants along with the ice cream cones, but I didn't care at the moment. A friend was dying and I had never been so scared in my life.

"Should we go in?" I whispered by the door as a couple of doctors exited the room and strolled right by us.

"I don't care if we're allowed to or not," Ashley stated. "I'm going." And with that, she dashed into the hospital room. I looked around nervously before walking in right behind her.

A few unfamiliar faces crowded the bed. I could spot Janel's boyfriend and Sasha within the small crowd, but many peoples' backs were facing us, so there wasn't much spotting to do. I made my way through, excusing myself every time someone I had bumped into someone, until I reached her. Accidentally, I uttered a gasp.

Her body was under white sheets, but her face was damaged enough to see underneath her oxygen mask. A long, thin scar resided above her right eye. She had stitches right on her temple. Her lip was puffy and I could tell her face was inflamed by the anomalous swelling. Roses covered the second half of her, along with a stack of notes and cards right on the table beside her head.

"The doctors say she's going to be okay," I heard someone say from right next to me. My eyes went wide at the voice; heart thumping as if it were going to fall out of my chest and run for the Himalayas. His scent confirmed my thoughts. It was Ian.

"I didn't ask you," I responded. I didn't care if that sounded rude, despite the fact that anyone that wanted to could listen in on what we were saying. I didn't want to deal with him, not right then. It wasn't the right time.

"I just thought I'd let you know," Ian said, and with that, he didn't say another word to me. My eyes scanned around for Ashley and I spotted her hugging Shay, both containing tears of different emotions. My barbaric thoughts that included Ian were wiped away in an instant as the feeling of despondency sunk in. Everyone's eyes were directed either on the injured spirit resting in the bed or lost in thought on how something so unfortunate could have happened all of a sudden.

Hours passed and it was almost midnight. I wasn't sure if anyone from in the halls had decided to depart, but no one inside had the thought of going home cross their minds, including myself. People walked in and out for bathroom breaks, a quick snack or drink from the vending machine, or to take important calls. All I could do was stand next to Janel and pray that she was going to wake up. I knew she would be alive, but I didn't know what inhabited beneath the thin hospital blankets.

I spotted a few other people I recognized: Janel's younger sister, who was about sixteen, Brant, Lindsey, and Skylar, who was a woman Janel was in a movie with.

When a doctor entered the room, he instructed everyone that wasn't family was going to have to leave until seven in the morning the next day. We began piling out sluggishly, not wanting to leave her in case she woke up.

"Janie doesn't deserve this," I heard one man say with continuous _tsks_. Janie was a nickname Brant called Janel almost all the time. As soon as that thought popped into my head, I watched Brant himself trudge out of the room with an expression I had never seen on the man, not even when he was acting. His eyes drooped, and I could tell he was on the verge of losing it. Him and Janel were very close friends and if Janel's current boyfriend wasn't in the picture, I would bet they'd have something as small as a quick fling or something as big as a serious relationship. He deserved to be in that room, comforting her. He was as good as family.

My feet moved out of the blue, approaching him and wrapping my arms around his body to embrace him in a momentary hug of comfort. I hated seeing people I was close to feeling hurt, more so because I could feel the same hurt that they did. I couldn't help but to think about Janel again, about how she never failed to make people around her laugh until they cried, how she was always smiling and enforcing positivity around her, whether she meant to or not. She was the backbone of the show, and no one really noticed that immense detail until then. At least, I didn't.

My intentions of squeezing Brant harder wasn't a sign of crushing him, if my tiny body could ever do that, but more as a resort of holding back tears. It was dawning on me that she wouldn't be able to impact our lives as she did before if she didn't leave the hospital before the show ended.

"I'm so sorry, Brant," I squeaked into his chest. He rolled his bigger hands up and down my spine.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Luce," he muttered, audible enough for only me to hear. He leaned back and stared into my eyes, giving me a look of reassurance. I nodded in response, a genuine smirk resurfacing my face. With that, he sauntered away, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the floor. I continue to watch him until he took a right, where the elevators were located at, officially out of sight.

"I told you that you two were going to end up together," said a stern voice from behind me. I turned around, seeing Troian behind me with her arms crossed. "Where have you been, woman? Besides, you know, getting over a sickness." She made a quoting gesture with her fingers when she said 'a sickness.' Ah, so she didn't believe the strep throat story like everybody else. I completely discredited how smart she was. She was also the first person I had bumped into that had acknowledged my abrupt visit after my absence.

"I could also ask the same for you, little miss 'family emergency,'" I responded, testing her wit.

"Hey," she frowned, a little too defensive of my joke, "I wasn't the one gone for a week!"

"Alright, fine, you win," I surrendered, knowing I couldn't go against her better facts, but mostly worried that anymore jokes would cause her to get really upset. She was normally cool with me poking fun at her, which forced me to believe Janel's accident caused Troian's bizarre sensitivity. "I wanted to tell you what's been going on, but you didn't answer your phone that day."

"The day I disappeared?" she asked, grabbing her coat off the rack. "What happened that day?"

As we begin to walk, I waved at Ashley, who was in a huddle with Shay and some other of her friends before proceeding with Troian.

"A lot," I said, flipping my hair before pressing down for the elevator. "I'll explain in the car ride home."

**xXx**

I woke up the next morning, the alarm on my iPhone being the reason for it. I pressed the snooze three times, getting in five minutes between each rest before getting out of bed and hopping into the shower. Since I showed up at the hospital and hadn't coughed a single time, I couldn't pull off the whole strep throat excuse anymore. Too many people saw me. I didn't have any other choice but to go.

After I dried myself off with a towel and put on a robe, I brushed my teeth after flossing thoroughly. Janel had always made fun of how my level of hygiene was going to turn into an OCD anyday soon. Then I began thinking about the brown-eyed beauty who didn't have a choice but to remain laying on a hospital bed, unsure whether her life was going to be extended or if it was only a matter of time before she'd watch her life pass on with her own eyes. I couldn't imagine what going through would be like. It almost made a broken heart appear to be a thin cut, similar to the one located right above Janel's right eye.

I pulled out my blowdryer and plugged it in, thinking about my long run in with Troian. After I explained the story from top to bottom like I did with Ashley, there was a slight change with how the brunette acted versus how the blonde reacted. Ash's face varied with different emotions whereas Troi had a look of concentration through out, as if she were studying for a test and needed everything I said to pass.

"He doesn't deserve you," I remembered her saying. I pretended to believe her, but the way I childishly reacted and exited his house made me reconsider so.

I finished blowing out my hair, tying it into a high ponytail and using a few bobby pins to flatten any flyaways wanting to escape my head. I want to escape my head too. It was crazy up there.

I walked back into my room to find my phone had been lit, and when I got close enough to see why, I received a text. From... Ashley. I opened it as fast as my little fingers would allow me.

_Ash: Omg you HAVE to guess what I saw yesterday (5:33 AM)_

Before I could even think about it, I received another text from her.

_Ash: You take too long to reply! I'll just tell you. Ian saw you and Brant hug for a really long time (so did I) & a little later Brant + Ian were having a heated conversation... (5:36 AM)_

Woah. Brant and Ian having a heated conversation? I wasn't expecting that at all.

_Me: What were they talking about? (5:38 AM)_

I brought my fingers up to my teeth to gnaw at them before pulling them away from my mouth seconds after. I kept forgetting I was trying to kick off that habit. I wasn't biting my nails too much now, especially since I had found crying as my new alternative to release tension. As I heavily scrutinized whether crying or biting my nails was worse, the jingle sound coming from my phone made me peer down at the new message.

_Ash: I don't know, but I think Sasha might. She was walking out with Brant when Ian came up to him. I couldn't hear, I was too far away, but I saw it all happen. Talk to Sash. (5:41 AM)_

Ashley didn't have to tell me twice. I texted back an 'okay' to her before rummaging in my contact list and finding Sasha's name and hitting message. We've never talked that much off set, so hopefully it wouldn't be too eccentric that I wanted to jump into personal matters all of a sudden. I thought of how I was going to ask her without sounding outrageous or frenzied. There was no possible way I could do that, so I decided to dive right into it.

_Me: Sashaaaa. Do you know what Brant and Ian were talking about last night outside of the hospital? (5:45 AM)_

While waiting for a reply, I darted to my closet to find something to wear for today. I went for a graphic tee that said 'I am a morning person' along with high waist denim jeans. I would get changed on set for my character, anyways, so there was no point in dressing all fashionable.

Sasha didn't text back for a while. It took until I was out the door and to my car that she finally responded.

_Sasha: Oh god, yes. They were talking in code so I wouldn't get all suspicious, but I think they had mistaken me for an idiot. Ian was saying stuff like you stole my crystal and I want it back, and Brant was all I never stole your crystal, you lost it when you went for a rock instead, and all this. I think they were talking about you? Maybe? I don't know lol. (5:52 AM)_

What did that mean? If they were talking about me, and I was the 'crystal,' then Brant knew about what happened that evening in the attic. How could he know? Who could have told him? Ashley couldn't have had time to tell Brant anything, since I had told her before we had gone to the hospital. I told Troian on our way outside, so it was impossible for her to say anything, unless she knew what happened before I told her and was only pretending that it was her first time hearing the story. Could it have been Ian that told Brant? Or did Ian tell someone and that person told Brant?

I hit a red light and texted Sasha back.

_Me: Really? Did anything else happen? (6:00 AM)_

I continued to contemplate the situation in my head until I hit the studio, slipping my keys into my small bag and taking out my chapstick to roll it over my lips. The beeping from in the passengers' seat informed that I got a text. It was two, this time. A greeting from a friend that was in Tennessee and another one from Sasha.

_Sasha: Not really.. but Brant went around and kicked a few vehicles on our way to his car, though. It took me forever to calm him down. Ian really put him on the edge, especially after what happened with Janie. :/ I felt so bad for him. They're both at the hospital right now, waiting until 7 o'clock until they're allowed to see J. (6:07 AM)_

An unstoppable amount of questions flooded my brain. I understood why Brant would be waiting, but why Ian? He wasn't as close to Janel as the other male was. Was he only there to finish up their quarrel from last night? Or was he trying to avoid me by finding anywhere besides the set to be at?

I walked in the studio, head held down and eyes focused nowhere. I took the stairs today instead of taking the elevator, just for the feel of it. Taking a few turns after I opened the door to the fifth floor, I checked in the front desk and entered my personal studio room before setting my purse on the desk and taking a seat in the swirly chair. I stared at my reflection in the wall mirror. I looked pretty decent for someone that spent an entire week crying my eyes out. The bags under my eyes would be covered with concealer by the makeup artists, and they normally didn't ask questions, only small chit chat, so I wasn't too worried.

I headed over to the wall, where an intercom-like box was built into the wall. I pressed one of the buttons and questioned, "This is Lucy, am I needed?"

It was to signal the current director on the set, but I didn't know if it would Leslie today or someone else. I sauntered over to the rack of clothes hung in the back. All of my Aria clothes. Picking out the most peculiar combination wasn't too hard, as my character was very inimitable when it came to clothes. Hearing that I wasn't needed at the moment through the boxed intercom made me relax a little. I had time to talk to Troian about what I was apprised of from Sasha and ponder over any solutions.

I took my hair down from its high ponytail and, after failing to find one of the many combs, used my fingers to flatten it down before heading out on my journey to find my friend. The first place I chose to look was in her studio room. Maybe she was getting dressed as well. I knocked on the door lightly before entering. Nothing.

A comb spotted my eye before I left, so I decided to take that advantage and comb my hair out. I shut the door behind me and stroked through my dry hair, staring at my appearance through the mirror. There were hairstylists downstairs that would style it anyhow, but I didn't want to walk around in a ponytail until then.

Her handbag was here, so she must have been around. Something else caught my eye on the table as well — a really pretty journal. I picked it up, flipping through the pages and smiling at how beautiful the handwriting was. It must have been Troian's. As I got farther into the chronicle, I noticed that it was a diary. She recorded her days into it. I was quite interested, especially since I could barely keep a diary without forgetting to write inside of it for multiple days, which is why I quit trying when I hit the eleventh grade. There was an article from very recent that I started reading:

_March 7, 2014_

_Today's the second time it happened. He lost control again. He apologized repeatedly and said he'd take off work to make it up for me tomorrow, but I refused to let him for two reasons. 1) I didn't want him to blame me for his one day off work. 2) I was too uncomfortable to spend a whole day with him. I'm scared. God, I've never been so scared in my life. I don't know what to do. I should leave, I should escape and find a better place to go, but he'd find me. The only place I feel safe now is at the set of the show._

My eyebrows were scrunched so tight together, it looked like I had a unibrow. What was going on? Who was this person that 'lost control?' It was obviously a man, since she continued to say he. It was someone she was very close with. What happened that made him lose control? And what did he do to Troian?

I felt like I knew the answer, but I looked for a certain date that would confirm my skepticism.

I found it. Last week, the day she had disappeared for her family emergency.

_April 1, 2014_

_My arms and my legs are now covered in bruises, all of different sizes and colors. I feel like a colorbook and he's drawing on me with his fists and his shoes. I've been doing all I can to pretend nothing's been going on, but when I was on the phone with Lucy today, he came into the room I was in. Just by the fire in his eyes, I could tell he was ready to hurt me, so I hung up. And I thought I was safe on set, but I guess I'm not. At least, not when I'm in a room alone. I went to the hospital today because he targeted my stomach and aimed perfectly, and I found out that my stomach lining had been tampered, which was almost impossible unless a brutal force was involved. I had to lie and say it was during my boxing classes. _

Before I could continue reading, I heard a voice from behind me that made me leap out of my skin.

"What are you doing with that?" the person rasped.

I turned around frantically.

**Troian.**

* * *

A/N: I hope you guys are alright with me adding a subplot for Troian, I just adore her and I wanted to incorporate her into this story as well. Let me know if you guys would like to keep up with her storyline as well or if you want strictly Lucian. I also think it's time for me to turn this from K+ to T, just for Troian's plotline. I think it's a sensitive topic. Thoughts? {Reviews, favorites, and follows encourage my typing process!}


	6. Mistreated

**A/N**: The beginning of this chapter contains some triggering topics, so if you aren't comfortable with reading abuse, I suggest you scroll down until you see a line which divides scenes. Also, I'm sorry this couldn't be up sooner, since I like to update pretty frequently, I had tried to type up as much as I could on my phone and as soon as I was almost done with the Troian + Lucy scene, my phone died and everything wasn't saved and ugh. I'm also going through some major things right now. but I hope everything can be cleared up so I'll have no more difficulty in writing. Without further ado, here's chapter six! xo

* * *

The look on Troian's face expressed two severe mental states: anger and fear. And it was quite obvious that fear was the more dominant emotion. Her eyes held a fire, but not the kind I saw when she was determined to pick at Marlene's thoughts about the show or when she had to finish a novel within a day. No, this time, it was beyond frightening. At that point, I was still deciding whether it was best to stay and confront her or run for my life.

All at once, she kicked the door with her feet to close it shut, before leaping for the diary locked in my hand. Luckily, my rapid instincts were in action, and I swivled out of the way. I heard a yelp, followed by a crash. She had flinged herself for the journal and had almost launched into a rack of hats. Her composure wasn't too well anymore, which made me fear for her safety and I had a desire to lend the keepsake in my hand.

But I wouldn't let her have it. Not until I got some answers.

"P-please Lucy," she whimpered, the anger in her eyes diminishing right before my eyes. "Give me... the notebook."

"No." I clenched the book tight to my chest, showing her that I wasn't letting her off so easily. "Not until you tell me what the hell this is. Troian... does Patrick hit you?"

As she rose her head to meet eye contact, the orbs around her pupils were drowning in the midst of salty tears, discouraged that she wouldn't be able to keep such a secret harbored anymore. Despite the obvious truth, she shook her head.

"N-no," she denied, her voice cracking midway. "That's for a s-story I'm writing."

"What's the story called? Troian's lying to her best friend?"

"More like Lucy needs to shut her damn mouth," she retorted angrily, having another swipe at the diary.

"Stop!" I shouted out from the top of my lungs, which startled her a bit. She staggered back, the tears growing in her eyes. I instantly felt remorse for pinning the problem on her, for not telling me. It was her choice, but I couldn't help but to think it was a _bad_ choice.

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but before I could, I watched her sink to the floor as she brought her hand to her mouth, covering her upcoming sobs. I dropped the book to the floor, rushing over and bringing my palm to her back and creating circles all around. My small "shh's" were drowned by her huge sniffs and gasps for air behind her covered mouth. How could this have happened? No, _why_ did this happen?

I was forced to bite my tongue as all these questions swarmed through my head. It would be inconsiderate to question her yet, not in the state she was in.

As she leaned her shivering body into mine, I dipped my arms around hers, fastening my warm, clammy hands around her sweater covered arms. I couldn't help but to let my thoughts drift to the summer before; how the scenarios between Troian and Ian were coincidentally similar with the two weeping into my arms. How broken they both were and how I was their liberator in a time of need.

Suddenly, visions of past recollections flashed into my mind as I held Troian closer. There was a specific memory that stood out to me, above all. I remember returning to Ian's house with bags of groceries, prepared to cook a homemade dinner for us to enjoy. I had entered the living room, where he sat curled up inside of a sheet, all the way in the back corner. His glistening, deadpanned eyes were established on nothing in general and the corners of his pouty lips translucently quivered. My hands shot up to his unshaved cheeks, astounded at how cold he was in such a heated room.

"Why are you so cold?" I asked, my other hand shooting up to his left cheek, caressing them to bring them back to warmth. I wasn't expecting a response of any sorts. How could I? He had barely said more than five sentences in a months' period. Which is why my heart almost stopped as his head turned, his eyes devouring mine. As they flickered to another direction of my face and back to my eyes, I couldn't help but to think that, in such a deranged state he was in, he was aching to do what I, too, wanted to do. Was that the selfish side of me only thinking? Was I truly imagining things? My hands were still stationed on his cheeks, but they were solidly motionless. I was reluctant to inch closer, but I did so anyways. He wasn't backing away and that led me to believe that he was comfortable. An inch separated the gaps between our faces, and before I could seal the deal, I felt my cell phone vibrating in my side pocket, my face jerking away from his.

We never brought ourselves to talking about that ever again, regardless of how tempted I was when the memory surfaced itself from the back to the front of my mind.

I snapped back into reality, wide-eyed and mouth agape, when Troian tugged on my arm.

"What?" I breathed, peering down at her. "What is it, boo?"

I noticed her hand was away from her mouth and her cries had conveyed into hiccups. With the exception of her extreme mental condition, she seemed calmer than a while ago.

She rushed up, sitting without the support of my small frame, and shoved the legs of her jeans up. Her pale skin was gashed with scatters of hued bruises, varying of different colors, from brown to purple to a midnight blue. The way she described them looking like a colorbook was accurate, if not one hundred percent.

"This one," she whispered, pointing to the purple bruise located at the very bottom of her leg. "This one was from last week, Tuesday. In the kitchen." She pointed to another one, situated below her knee. "This one was from three weeks ago, on a Wednesday." I gawked in horror as she continued to name off each injury, along with an unsettling description. Each and every one of them would be ingrained into my mind with no way to escape.

But the worst was yet to be revealed, I knew it from the diary. And just when that thought materialized, I watched her slip her shirt up to her upper ribs. I could hardly keep myself from looking away. The sight of it so was unbearable, I didn't know if I would be able to secure my waffles' place inside my stomach or if I would humiliate myself and hurl right then and there. There were peels, in which the noticeably large ones had been stitched back. A sequenced pattern of scars were engraved all around, destroying the stomach that was once taintless, without a single mole or birthmark.

"This one happened the morning we were on the phone, last week," she stated. Her strong attempts to veil the shakiness in her voice had failed. I wanted to tell her to stop, to tell her that she didn't have to go on. But if I went to a foolish extent and said that, there could've been a massive chance she'd never her mouth about this. "I was headed here after I ditched Shay and Lindsey because I had forgotten my script. Rick found me, I don't know how, but he was standing around when I came in. He had this look on his face, like, he was calm on the outside... but I could see it in his eyes. H-he started mumbling things, crazy things about how I destroyed something. To this day-" she slammed her small hand against her thigh for emphasis, "-I still have no idea what I destroyed."

I couldn't help but to let a couple of my tears spill from my eye sockets and to my cheeks. The amount of empathy I felt for her was incredible. How could someone so cruel, so evil do something such as physically assault Troian when she did no wrong whatsoever?

She had no intention of stopping there, though. Not yet. I braced myself for her next lifeless words.

"He.. he, um." I positioned my small palms around her arm as an indication of solace, watching her attentively as she struggled to find a way to say what she wanted to say. She nodded slightly, sighed perilously, and resumed. "He threw me over there, like I was a dirty rag doll, just so I wouldn't escape the room." She leaned her head back, displaying that the location was in the far corner of the dressing room. "He got on top of me and whispered all of these things in my ear about h-how I would never find someone as good as him. I tried to scream for help, Lucy, I did. But he had a weapon. I don't know what it was, but I could feel it on my skin. He sliced my stomach open when I screamed again, and I think I was unconscious for a minute. When I woke up.. it was too late. He left, and my clothes went with him."

My hand flew to my mouth. Not a single sob, utter, or sniffle withdrew from her; despite the profusion of streaming tears coming down her face. Her face was empty, cold. Like she was destroyed. This wasn't the lively, vigorous woman I knew. Someone else sat in front of me with the same face, but a different mindset, a different outlook on how love was. All because of the past month.

"My stomach was covered in blood so I cleaned that up right away. Then, I wore my Spencer clothes and went to the hospital and got myself stitched up. I also asked them to give me an early pregnancy test. Not the drugstore kind, but the real one."

I peered at her, more notably than before. "And?"

She shook her head; her long curls took over her pale face as she did so. "I'm not pregnant. But I was really lucky. I was even luckier they asked no questions about how the test and the wounds might be connected. But, I _did_ tell them that the stuff on my stomach was from self-defense class."

Out of nowhere, I leaned in to wrap my arms around her in a ferocious manner. Whether the hug was more for her or more so for me, I couldn't guess. She was so strong, it was absolutely astounding. I had read a few articles here and there about women who were physically assaulted and raped and I had always felt sorry, but it was different when someone close to you was hurt and shattered into a billion different pieces. I was angry. I was sad. I was confused. But what could I do to resolve the conflict for her? The answer was simple yet tough. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help except to give her hugs and tell her that everything was going to be okay. And that destroyed me almost as much as the situation did.

"Hey, hey," I breathed, leaning away and brushing back pieces of her brown hair behind her ear. "Listen. You're not alone anymore. I'm going to try and help you as much as I can. You don't deserve anything you're getting, just remember that."

A dry, cold laugh escaped her chapped lips. Nothing about it showed warmth or sincerity, which slightly frightened me. "Maybe I do deserve it."

I was even more distraught. Did I hear that right? Was my mind really playing tricks on me right then? "Wh-what did you say?"

"I said," she deliberately spoke, her tone dropping and making it slightly more difficult to attain her sentence any clearer. "Maybe I deserve it. I mean, I did give Rick my heart, right?"

"No," I interrupted. I guess my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. I preferred that over the truth at the time, though. It was like she was hijacked with a memory card Patrick inserted into her. "No, not right. You didn't give it to him. He stole it away and threw it under a freakin' truck. You couldn't control it, okay? Be strong, Troi. Don't let him get to you."

"How is that possible?" she questioned, finally looking my way. Her voice cracked and I could have sworn that it was her emotional trigger because her tears rolled faster than a waterfall and her neutral face was now turning out to be a lot more despondent than before. "I'm so scared. I can't go back there, Luce. I c-can't. I'm going back to live with my parents."

"Your parents live in Southern California," I informed like it was news to her. "You aren't serious, are you?"

She scoffed and raised her hands in the air for a second before they flopped back into her laugh. "Where else do I have to go?"

"My house!" I gasped. I said it a little too loudly, but who cared? There was an opening of guidance and I was going to lead her through it. "You have to. I won't let you leave LA and I sure as hell won't let you stay at his house."

Her hysterical sobs progressed into hiccups. I could tell she was arguing with herself on whether it was a good choice or not. In the end, her satisfying decision made the both of us hug and smile and cry until nothing else would come out. It was final. For now, there was hope.

And I would do anything to make sure she'd latch onto that with all that she had.

* * *

To my surprise, no one lurked outside of Janel's hospital room when I arrived. What was once a maximum of thirty people in her room the first night had turned into a minimum of two: Brant and Ian.

My attempts to shuffle across the floor without a single noise had failed, since Ian's head turned towards my direction. By his face and how breathtaken he was, you would have to think I was in an elegant dress with a pair of two feet stilettos, when in reality, I was in a plain white tee and grey sweatpants I had gotten from PINK and a woven scarf draped around my neck along with sunglasses for an extra accessory.

In one glance, I could take in a little bit of what his physical appearance revealed. His hair was covered by the same beanie he'd worn a week or two ago at Subway, and nothing could compare to the dark circles underneath his eyes. I was sure he was heavily sleep deprived.

"Hi, Lucy," he waved, lips parted in anticipation of a response. Was he really expecting me to say hi back? I didn't care if he had his puppy dog eyes on or not. I was furious with him.

Ignoring and averting my eyes off of him, I took a few more steps until I could take a good look at Janel from in front of Brant's large, muscular frame. They had both turned their heads at the call of my name. My eyes were focused solely on the brown-eyed beauty that resided inside the bed. She was awake. She was actually conscious and awake. In fact, she was even grinning. To see her out of pain brought a smile to my face as well.

"W'sup, Luce?" Brant nodded, watching my reaction in amusement.

"Lucy!" Janel exclaimed. "How've you been?"

"The real question is, how are you?" I said, chuckling a little.

"I'm much much better," she nodded, looking at Brant with a smile. "Pretty boy and Ian here have been helping me out for the last two days."

"I'm Pretty boy, in case that was a mystery to either one of you," Brant joked, raising his hand.

"I don't think I should've given you that nickname," Janel giggled. "All my compliments get to your small head."

"You can't take it back, sorry," he shrugged melodramatically. I laughed, listening to their playful conversation. The relationship between the two made me feel happy inside, like that couple or that friendship on a television show you rooted for.

"Oh, I brought you something!" I remembered, bringing my hand to my Gucci shoulder-strapped handbag and opening it up. I made a mental note to go on my laptop and order a few other handbags from Calvin Klein or the brand new 3.1 Phillip Kim 2014 summer handbag line. After digging around, I brought out a small sack with nearly fifteen miniature Hershey's Kisses and handed them over to the recovering patient. "I stopped at a gas station on my way here and I thought you might want something sweet to snack on."

I saw a sparkle glint in her eyes as she eagerly accepted it. "The sweetest thing I've had here is chocolate milk. Chocolate milk, Lucy," she emphasized. "I owe you for these. Thank you."

She stretched her arms out for a hug and I purposely bumped Brant out of the way to accept her hug. "It's no big deal, Janie. You don't owe me anything."

"I'm here too, you know?" Brant called out, and it was until I pulled myself away from the sweet hug that I saw him toppled on the ground. I busted into laughter, and I heard Janel and Ian join in as a chorus. Before my eyes could adjust well, Brant was out of the room. Along with my Gucci handbag.

"Brant!" I called out, running out out of the room to uncivilly chase him down. That bag costed over a thousand dollars. I _wasn't_ going to let him run off so easily.  
Moments later, a grinning, tireless Brant stood in front of me. I had my bag, but I was breathing heavily. I silently praised myself for hitting the gym for the past few months, because if I hadn't, I would have been wheezing.

I mildly punched him in the chest and he responded with a chuckle. "I didn't know you could run like that, Luce."

"Yeah, neither did I," I admitted as we started our slow and steady walk back to Janel's hospital room. People eyed us down and I couldn't tell if it was because we looked familiar to them or because we were dashing down the halls like toddlers. We took another turn and a long hallway awaited us. Nothing but the sounds of the soles of our shoes and my light breathing could be heard. A thought popped into my head and I wanted to address it while we had the time to ourselves.

"Hey, Brant... can you tell me why you and Ian were arguing the other night?"

I looked up at him mid-sentence to watch his features turn a little mysterious. My eagerness peaked. I had to know why they had that confrontation, and confirm if it was about me or not.

"Well... we were talking last week, the week you went missing because you were 'sick,'" he said, putting air quotes at sick with his fingers, just like Troian did when she confronted me for not being sick.

"How'd you know?" I asked rapidly. Who else knew that I was only pretending? And how?

"You kidding me?" he smirked. "Everyone knew. Ash said you were gone with strep throat, but the next day, she goes off talking about how your tonsils were removed, and I think the next day you had a cold. She wouldn't be able to lie if her life depended on it," he joked. "It's a wonder how she was casted on a television show where lying is the main priority."

I couldn't help but to chuckle. Ashley meant well, but sometimes, she acted just like her character, Hanna.

"Anyways," he said, straying back to our previous topic. "We were talking that week, and he was telling me all abou-"

"Wait," I interrupted. "Let me guess. He told you all about the night I kissed him, right?"

I had no doubt in my mind that one of the most humiliating moments of my life came up in conversation. He nodded deliberately, confirming my thoughts. I silently prayed he wouldn't recap all he heard about that night. It was mortifying enough for him to know, even if he was a close friend.

"He told me something else too,about his fiancee," he said cautiously. I tried not to let him see my face, but it was pretty hard when he hit me with news like that. I knew he had the ring and I knew it wasn't supposed to be for me, but to hear the word fiancee made me feel so hopeless. It really happened. Ian was an engaged guy, and I wasn't his companion. The small gap that he would give up his relationship for me, as selfish as it sounded, was beginning to diminish. The second they stand at their alter, speaking their vows and kissing to seal the deal; that would be the moment the small gap would dissolve into the air.

"'Kay, and?" I said nonchalantly, pretending as if his last comment didn't arouse high emotion from me. "What did he say about her?"

"He says he loves her, but he's not in love with her. Whatever that means. And his parents really like this girl, and they normally don't like the girls he brings home, you know?"

I nodded, slowing down the pace any more, if that was possible.

"He said he felt kind of trapped when he asked her to marry him," Brant informed. "He's not unhappy about it, but for knowing the girl for only four months? I can see why he wouldn't be too happy about marrying her now."

Something didn't make sense. "So, why'd he ask her in the first place?"

He appeared to be just as bedazzled as I was. "Maybe he was bring pressured into it? I don't know, I didn't ask." He shrugged. "But he said that his only chance of getting out of it was if he could find someone he liked better. That's where you come in. He didn't know how to say it, but he needed you."

"Before or after he refused to kiss me?" I asked, a little more insincere than how I truly meant to come off as.

"Both," he replied. I scoffed. He was lying. Ian didn't need me at anytime. And if he did, what did he need me for? "He told me that he didn't want the kiss, he wanted you to say how you felt. And that the painting was supposed to be some sort of trigger."

My chest heaved as my anger rose. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back everything I wanted to yell out. He didn't have the right to toy with my emotions for his benefit.

"Is that all I was to him?" I blurted out, my rage blurring out and being replaced with disappointment. "Someone he could use to get out of a situation?"

"No, you weren't," Brant shook his head in a matter-of-fact manner. "After he talked about his fiancee and how you could have been an escape route, he went on and on about how much he was worried about you and what an idiot he was and how amazing you were. I almost pretended to take a business call." He laughed at himself before continuing. "He even made me vow not to get close to you like that."

I crossed my arms. "He doesn't have that choice. If we wanted to date each other, it wouldn't be any of his business."

"But I vowed, so I can't."

"I wouldn't want to date you anyways, Brant," I rose my eyebrows as we crossed to the final hallway, where our destination was located, all the way at the end.

"Ah, no need to lie in front of me," he said in a cocky voice. "Any lady not interested in me is either blind or crazy."

"Consider me mental and unable to see, then," I grinned. I wouldn't lie, he was handsome. But he wasn't commitment material and he wasn't my type. Our friendship was way more valuable to me than a small relationship that would last about a month.

"Whatever, you'll come crawling for me sooner or later," he winked. "Anyways, anyways. Someone, I don't know who, but someone was spreading around these rumors that you and I are together, according to Ian. I even saw it a few days after, when I had gone grocery shopping and the magazines were lined up right by the checkout."

My nose crinkled. How hadn't I heard about that? I'm sure my publicist, Mario, would have called to tell me that. He never failed to give me information like that within seconds of an articles' release.

When I didn't respond, he wrapped up his long story. "He was really angry, which was strange since he almost never listened to things like that. I think he was just upset because you weren't talking to him and he saw us hug. Then he went after me in the parking lot."

"Are you guys friends now?" I questioned, a little worried that I could be the reason of potentially destroying their bond.

"We were never not friends," Brant told me as we inched closer to the hospital room. "He was just angry as hell. We're fine now."

"Oh," was all I could say as we sauntered back in the room. There were more unfamiliar faces crowding Janel. They had slight accents, which led me to believe they were family members, since Janel was born in Hawaii. Ian stood up from his seat and walked over to us, his gaze laying squarely on me.

"We have a couple more hours," he notified me. I gave him a look of confusion. "You know, the photoshoot."

A combination of unladylike words intruded my mind as soon as I knew what he was talking about. A month or two ago, Ian and I had been offered to pose for Jared Magazine, and with all the extra time we believed to have, we accepted as a fun activity that we'd have fun with. I had completely forgotten about it, and again, I had Mario to blame for it. I made a mental note to call him later. If I would have remembered to, I could have disbanded our appointment. With the photoshoot in less than two hours, it was too late. I had no choice but to comply and hope for the best.

"I should probably head home and get some rest," Brant nodded with a yawn. "I don't remember the last time I had sleep for over seven hours." He waved over at Janel, who blew a kiss to him as well as Ian and myself before turning to those who surrounded her. We all walked out in a distressing silence with Brant in between us.

"Here's the address," Ian said as he pulled out a slip of paper, reluctantly passing it to me. I accepted it, trying my hardest not to make contact with his face.

"Meet you there," I muttered before turning to Brant, smiling. "Call me later?"

He nodded and waved at the two of us, proceeding to his car somewhere out in the vast parking lot.

"Do you want to catch a ride with me?" Ian asked, pointing to the direction of his vehicle.

"I have a car, so no thanks," I retorted, intentionally looking in his direction for the first time. He seemed... anxious. "Just meet me there."

He opened his mouth slightly to say something, but I wouldn't let him. I scuffled off as fast as I could, dreading the thought of the next couple hours.

* * *

"Hi, I'm looking for Mason Woods?" I projected at the receptionist, who was in the middle of typing speedily on her computer.

"Do you have an appointment, ma'am?" she questioned, having no concern to look up. Was that proper etiquette around here? Or did big time magazines really have to be focused on other things? Seventeen didn't. Vogue didn't.

"Yeah, one eight o'clock," I responded.

"Just one moment," she muttered, standing up from her swirly chair. She took the stacks of papers on her desk and walked back to a separate room. As she opened the door, I could see many cabinets. It must have been a file cabinet room.

"She said the same to me too."

I heard the all too familiar voice of Ian from behind me. Why? Why was he always creeping up? Was this fate's way of telling me he was going to be an annoying bug that would appear all the time?

For the millionth time, I ignored him. I slid my phone out and used whatever free time I had to use it. Texting Troian was my main priority. When I asked her where she was, she responded she was with Keegan, and all my worries for her were gone in an instant. If an unfortunate case where Patrick came looking for her and found her, Keegan would keep her safe, I was positive. Afterwards, I gave my publicist a call, asking him why he hadn't told me about the rumors between Brant and I, as well as my reminder of my Jared photoshoot. He always had an excuse that slipped out of his mouth, and good ones, since he had about five seconds to think of a way to get out of his messes. Despite the numerous amount of times he's done it, I would never fire him. He and I had grown close over the past years and I was thankful for him.

Meanwhile, the tension brewed between Ian and I. Uncomfortable was an understatement to how I was feeling.

I stood around for about ten minutes before my legs started to feel sore. Where was that lady? Was it possible to get lost in the file cabinet room? I looked at the time on my phone and saw the late number staring at me in the face.

08:02 PM.

"Hello?" I called out, debating if it was a good choice to head to the back and find her. Out of the blue, a new male appeared and took the seat she resided in. He eyed us, more curiously than rudely, and smiled.

"Can I help you two?"

"Uh, well, someone was here to help us before?" Ian said. "She's in the back."

"Should I go get her?" he offered, rising from his seat.

"No!" I exclaimed. "No, no. We're already late for this appointment. Wasting time isn't going to help."

"You're late?" he questioned, his thin, tweaked eyebrows rose. "It's going to be hard for you to get to your appointment."

I was unbelievably frustrated. I was almost never late to things, and I wasn't late here either. I could take responsibility for my own actions when I had created a fault, but this was outrageous. I arrived ten minutes earlier than the appointed schedule. Not to mention the fact that I was with the one person I didn't want to be around.

Finally, we were redirected to an elevator, along with directions.

"Do you think... Is it possible for us to talk?" Ian stammered as we unboarded the elevator towards a long hallway.

"No." I had no intention to interact with him. When would he understand that? I quickened my pace, my pink and black Nike shoes striding along the carpeted floor.

"I-please, Lucy. Hear me out, at least."

"What part of 'no' do you not get?" I asked. "The n? Or the o?"

He fell silent for a moment, my rhetorical question stumbling him. A while later, we arrived at the number of the room we were to be at. There were cameras, studio lights, and crew roaming around. A set in the back contained an expensive, pink, plush couch and a painted wall in the back that outstretched enough for the cameras to shoot, along with room accessories such as a table, a vase, and a few pictures inside frames put up on the walls.

"Lucy! Ian!"

My head jerked to the sound of my name. A male in his mid forties with quiff-styled, jet black hair and a stylish, black jumpsuit strode in our direction.

"I am Mason Woods," he pronounced, cupping my petite hand in his and placing a small kiss on the back. He firmly shook Ian's hand. I payed attention to his first set of instructions, as well as how the photoshoot was going to go.

Makeup, hair, and clothing had taken a good thirty minutes. Since the month's theme for Jared Magazine was based on the season, they had put me in light pastel colors. My hair was twisted in a high braided bun and my lilac colored eyeliner was done heavily to blend it in with the icy blue, light pink, and white eyeshadow. For so many colors, the way they had set it on my face made everything look light, with the exception of the eyeliner. I felt like a doll. I couldn't stand so much makeup caked on my face, but I wouldn't refuse.

I wore a plain white dress, which had extra padding to 'reveal my hidden curves,' but I thought of it more as a cheat. It was slightly revealing, since the flow of it stopped to right up my knee, as well as a mild amount of chest cleavage showing. To top everything off, matching pumps were given to me. Overall, I liked the look. I just hoped none of the fans would feel as if I was too exposed.

I was led to the set, where Ian was located at. I was forced to admit to myself that he did look gorgeous. He was wearing a traditional tuxedo, and slick black hair replaced his beanie. His fingers fidgeted in his lap, which made me think about my habit of biting my fingernails.

"Alright, get those two in their positions!" Mason clapped, rushing to the other side of the set. "I'll be back with the added lights. Where's Cassie? Cassie!"

While everyone got to where they were supposed to be, I was being padded down with extra makeup.

"Can you please look at the camera, Lucy?" the cameraman asked. I did as asked. "Take off a little of the foundation. She looks cakey."

The makeup artists scuffled to me and patted my face down. After a repeated amount of directs, everyone was ready.

"Alright, are you two good?" Mason appeared, pointing. We nodded simultaneously.

_Breathe_, I told myself, positioning my hand on Ian's shoulder. _Two hours to go._

* * *

"I don't want to talk to you," I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Just leave me alone!"

It was eleven o'clock, my face bare and sore from taking off all the makeup, and there I was with Ian, arguing in front of my car. He insisted and insisted, saying that he wouldn't give up, but that's all I wanted from him. To give up.

His body blocked my door, disabling my access. "Why won't you talk to me? What have I done?"

"What have you done? Is this a joke? Are some Prank'd cameras going to pop up in a minute here?" I screeched. "You know what you've done. Go home to your precious wife."

"Fiancee," he corrected. "We aren't married."

"You will be!" I let my words linger in the air for a moment. "Right? You're finally going to be married. Good for you. I'm glad you've found the woman of your dreams and I hope you two have an amazing life."

"Why does it mean we can't be friends?" he outstretched his arms to the side, still confused.

I rolled my eyes, my bottom lip shivering from the cold. "Because, I hate you."

The second that slipped from my mouth, I immediately regretted it. Ian's determined look fell from his face, being replaced by shock and hurt. I didn't know if apologizing was the best move. My brain wouldn't catch up to my body fast enough, in the end. I reached for my door handle as he staggered to the right, granting admission. Without another glance, I started my car and drove away without heating the engine.

"Damn it," I screamed as loud as I could, pulling at my hair. Why was I such an idiot?

I couldn't remember anything when I stumbled inside the house. It was like I was in a drunken state. My cheeks and my shirt were stained with remorseful tears, and soon enough, so was my pillow. I didn't bother to change out of my clothes.

I had a terrible dream, one that it would be etched into my mind for a long time. I was in the middle of a scene that looked like the Grand Canyon. Nothing but towering cliffs surrounded me. I saw Troian in the figure of Ian's wife, cuddling and holding him as the sad, destroyed look he gave me in front of my car represented his features. They were at another cliff, about a quarter of a mile away, barely visible enough for me to see what they were doing. I called out for them, telling them to stop because something bad would happen. And then they kissed.

A bang awoke me from my disturbed sleep. My eyes fluttered open, but I stayed still, in case it was all in my head. When I heard groups of footsteps and the creaking sound of my doorknob, I sat up as quick as my frame would allow me.

**Someone had broken into my house.**

* * *

**A/N**: Ah, I apologize if the ending was a little rushed. I just wanted to wrap it up, since this is a pretty long chapter. I have lots of plans for the next few chapters and I can't wait to type it up and see if ya'll are interested or not. I hope you're all having a good Friday! {Reviews, follows, and favorites encourage me!}


	7. They Don't Know

My trembling hands peeled off the comforter from my sweaty body, which exposed me to the cold air and sent shivers down my spine. My nightmare really had an effect on me; I was never one to sweat a puddle in the middle of sleeping. I did everything in my power to step off from the bed as quiet as possible, but being half-conscious and half asleep really took a toll on my stance.

I could hear harsh whispering as I took my slow and steady steps to the ajar door of my bedroom. Were they aware that they were intruding — no, breaking into a person's house? Or did they know that they were roaming in the house of a helpless celebrity in their twenties the size of a newborn? Did they have weapons? A gun? I hoped they wouldn't have a gun.

I was reluctant to poke my head out the door, but I did so anyways. The sight of two silhouettes down the hall startled me. If anything was going to give me away at that point, it would be my loud gulps for air.

As I stood at the doorway, I began to contemplate my next moves. Was there anything in my room I could defend myself with? My hairspray? My studded belts? Could the training I used for my character come in handy?

"Lucy? Is that you?"

Wait, what had happened? How did the robber know my name? Then, it hit me. The soothing voice was no stranger.

This was Keegan.

I uttered a sigh and opened the hall lights right away. I became immediately relieved to find Keegan and Troian, who stood a foot away from me, dazed looks striking their faces. They looked somewhat purple, but I assumed it was because of the violescented lights the hallway emitted.

"God," I finally opened my mouth, slipping my hand to my chest, "you guys scared me half to death!"

As deadpanned as I was, they were amused by my gorgonized reaction. They made their way to me, and I noticed their soaring heights obnubilated what they were dragging behind them on wheels — suitcases. I couldn't help but to wonder what those were, but the thought drifted away instantly, due to my slumbered state.

"Come in," I said, opening the door to my bedroom all the way. My hand flew to the back of my head, scratching the itch. I stifled a yawn before asking, "how'd you get the key? I didn't even give it to you."

"We assumed you had a spare somewhere around the door," Troian admitted, looking up at the male. Was I really so predictable to keep a key hidden in hindsight?

I trailed back to the figurative calls of my bed and toppled onto it, my skin making contact with the warm, fleece pillows. I rolled on my back and sat back up, forcing my eyes to stay agape. They said a few things I didn't catch, but since they didn't look to me for a sort of confirmation, it presumably wasn't too significant. I watched as they zipped two suitcases open, unloading a few piles of clothes, shoes, accessories, some books of different sorts — novels, scrapbooks, handmade — and a couple of other things.

"How'd you get all that?" I asked, interrupting their current conversation. They exchanged unsettling glances and looked at me. I felt instantaneously rattled. I knew something dubious had unfolded. Normally, I'd take a brief period to ponder over what her options were and how she possibly got them, but dormancy was taking over me like a tidal wave. So, I waited for someone to speak up.

"Should we?" Keegan asked the brunette female, his voice trailing off. I couldn't see what Troian's reaction was, since her back was facing me, but whatever it was, Keegan obliged and tightened his lips.

"Whatever," I dismissed, rolling my eyes. I pushed myself off the bed and walked past the pair, who were on the ground separating the items. I opened my closet and pulled off some shirts off the clothes hangers and tossed a dozen Troian's way. "You can use those. I'll leave you some space in the closet too."

"Thanks," I heard her mutter as I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands. It felt like centuries when I took away some clothes, refolded them, and set them in a dresser cabinet. But alas, the work was completed. I never knew the vast amount of clothes I harbored until then.

Troian, with her arms crossed over her chest, turned to Keegan. "Thanks for helping all day. You don't know how much you've helped me."

He nodded, accepting her gratitude. "Thank you too."

"For what?"

He looked at the ground and smiled. I didn't catch his last words, but I knew he lowered his voice for a reason. He didn't want me to pick it up. My interest was peaked, at that point. They were keeping a lot from me, and if Troian wouldn't tell me what it was later, I'd have a feeling it was a duo involvement. They glanced at me and I couldn't help but to chortle at their conspicuous talking.

"If you guys are confessing your love to each other, take it outside," I remarked, sauntering over to my bed. I crawled under my comforter and let out a sigh. "I'm going to bed. Troian, you can sleep here or in the guest room. You're welcome to stay here too, Keegan. On the couch or something." My face was buried in my pillows, so when I heard nothing but stillness, I called out my adieu.

"Goodnight," they responded together. I heard their footsteps patter against the floorboards and out the door. Before I could tell them to close my light, a heavy sleep clouded my brain and I soon dozed off.

* * *

"I told you," Ashley mentioned, her _tsks_ almost as vexatious as the scrapes of her nail filer grinding against her bare fingernails. "You should have listened to me."

"But I didn't want to talk to him!" I argued, slight melancholy settling against my features. "I just wanted him to leave me alone."

The blonde kept her eyes on her nails, fiercely firing down on them. She scooted towards me so her next words wouldn't be heard by a cast or a crew member, despite the fact that we were in the privacy of her dressing room. The door was wide open because the heavy smell of hairspray and makeup fogged the entire range.

"What are you looking for out of this?" she asked. "What is your goal with him?"

Strangely, that was a good question, especially because I couldn't answer it on the spot. What _did_ I want from him? Did I want an apology? Did I want him to break it off with his fiancee? Did I want him? As the selfish answer circled my brain, I couldn't grasp it. No — I didn't _want_ to grasp it. It was plain and simple though. I wanted things that benefited me. My conceited thoughts were beyond my will.

I hated him but I loved him. I despised him but I looked up to him. I wanted him gone out of my life but I wanted to be in his arms. It sounded so demented, so delirious. Something that made sense in my head. Was there anything I could do? And if so, would Ian be willing to cooperate to satisfy the steps to my solution?

I had spent all weekend thinking about his reaction to my barbaric words and how his face dropped, a somberness stamped on his face. It didn't matter how inhuman I was to crush his spirits like a pop can. At least, that's what I told myself.

"Do you want to take the entire day to answer that?" Ashley asked, snapping me back to reality.

"Oh, what?" I said inattentively. "No, I—"

What I knew was going to be a string of stutters cut short when I saw who stood at the door. _Not again_.

"Ian!" Ashley exclaimed. "Just the guy I was looking for."

"Oh?" His uneven smile meandered when I picked up my water bottle and my handbag to exit the room. My remorse for him was replaced by the memorable rejected kiss from a few weeks ago.

_He deserves being hated_, I repeated to myself as I dipped past Ashley. _He deserves it._

"Lucy! Where are you going?" my friend called out. I ignored her as I passed Ian. What I wasn't expecting was his hand to clasp my tiny wrist. Another thing I wasn't expecting was my obliging to him leading me into a secluded hallway. Maybe this conversation was what I needed to understand my goal.

"Don't walk away this time, please."

I don't respond to his plea. Instead, I coldly stare at the wall behind him, as if it were to blame for all of my previous actions. It was just like me to blame other people besides myself and to not take responsibility for myself. Right? Maybe I was to blame for the series of events. Maybe it was my fault I didn't take some sort of action before this could have even had time to happen.

"Look, I know you're mad at me. Hell, I'd be mad at me," he sneered. Even though we remained less than a foot away from each other, the tension could be spread out within miles. "I just want you to know that, even if I've messed up our friendship for good, I'll still always care about you. You don't want to talk to me, and that's fine. You hate me, and again, that's fine. And I'm lying to myself saying that everything is fine when it's really not, but it's fine."

His familiar blathering took me back to the days where we would lay in my bed and he would ramble and ramble for hours until it was nighttime and we had to go our separate ways for the night. A certain moment in time, a month ago, flashed back to me. When he went on about how his grandparents, who originated from Ireland before they traveled to German, didn't truly love each other until years after their marriage. I asked him if he believed in love at first sight. His words were crystal, even to this day.

_"It's happened before, so yeah. I do."_

A soft qualm flowed from the pits of my stomach and fluttered around my body, like I was going to faint. I held onto the railing attached to the wall behind me, but nonchalantly, so Ian wouldn't feel as if he had to make physical contact to be of service.

I knew it was time to quell our argument. I wasn't thinking about his happiness. I was thinking about my own. My mother didn't raise a hot-headed narcissistic, she raised a lady. One who could forgive but never forget.

"I'm sorry," we said at the same time. My eyes rose to his, searching to find his hidden emotion. Our eyes clicked, and it became clear to me that it wasn't the only thing that had fell into place. Our upcoming smiles collectively dazzled on our faces, followed by my chuckle. That was it — we were back. His presence was enough to make me collapse in his arms, and he willingly collected me, gripping me into a hug as my feet was swept from the floor. His recognizable scent brought tears to my eyes.

"I didn't think you'd forgive me," he said, sighing into my neck.

"I didn't think I would either," I admitted. I let all our complications slip out of my mind and embraced what I had, finally — _Ian_.

* * *

"How is she?" I asked Brant through the phone. A few hours after my first interaction with Ian in weeks, I was in the studio to write out some lyrics and produce a demo with my producers, Sarah and Mikey, who were out getting a super late dinner for the entire team to eat while we discuss ideas. I waited in the room by myself and tampered with the unimportant dials.

"Janel?" he confirmed, "she's much much better. She's supposed to be released in three weeks. All she can talk about is coming back on set. And McDonalds. I snuck in some fries for her, though."

"What a gentlemen," I said, sarcastically. "You said three weeks? Does she have any injuries?"

"Yeah, her kneecap is out of place, so she's going to get some surgery done for that in a few days," he informed.

"That's good," I smiled, moving away from the dials and spinning in my own chair.

"I think so too," he agreed. "So, Lucy. Is there something you have to tell me?" His tone insisted I was hiding something from him. Was I?

"I don't think so."

"Oh, really?" he repeated. "You don't have to tell me that you and your second favorite guy in the whole world are friends again?"

"How did you know?" I asked him, even though the answer was pretty obvious. Ian tells him everything, and Brant confirmed my thoughts. I let a dramatic sigh whoosh through my teeth. "For the record, if you think you're my first favorite, you're dead wrong."

"Don't lie to m— _damn_." His profanity is slurred out, and it takes him a long time to get it out. I know, right then and there, he's seen a girl to turn his charm on. I chuckled at his response, but when he drew in his breath ever so sharply, my moment of amusement came to a stop.

"Are you okay?" I inquired, rolling my chair and I to the table in the middle of the small studio room.

"I might be," he started in a low tone, "but you won't."

An troublesome feeling settled within me. "Why?"

"Hold on, I'll show you."

Show me? How was he going to show me? No, more importantly, _what_ was he going to show me? If it was another mess I was going to have to deal with, I would refuse to respond to whatever it was he had to reveal. My phone vibrated, meaning a text message was sent through my phone. I ignored it until Brant told me to answer it, claiming it was from him.

I opened up the text and read,

_Brant: I can't say this out loud cause Ian is right there but his fiancee is with him right now... (8:25 PM)_

My heart raced. That wasn't the only thing he sent me. Right below was a photo attached, one Brant took seconds before sending. The setting was familiar, an area in the back of Janel's hospital room. Ian sat on a chair, and a woman resided on his lap, his arms wrapped around her. I could only see half of her face, but half was all I needed to distinguish her beautiful brown eyes and her high jaw structure. Her long, mahogany-brown hair passed all the way down to her back, covering a bit of her impeccable curves. She looked supermodel thin, and presumably supermodel tall, with the flashy black pumps she wore. Her smile mimicked his.

"Oh my god, Brant!" I cried out. "Brant, Brant!"

"What?" he answered, obviously taken aback by my repeated hollers.

"Doesn't she look familiar to you?" I asked. How could she not? Everything about her sent red flags, even before I saw her picture.

**I knew who she was.**


	8. Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

Her name was Amanda Haynes, and according to all the magazines I've read, she was crowned as Hollywood's most hottest and spontaneous gossip editor of the year. After leaving TMZ, she was recruited as vice-president to OK! Magazine right away for her high status. She gained popularity through her prosperous bashes with famous celebrities, and as everyone else says, she ends up 'sweeping the floor with her cutthroat arguments and whipping her opponents out of the way.' Because of her beautiful appearance, she is also known to be a snake in an angel's disguise.

But that wasn't how I heard of her. We had met long before. When I was eighteen and getting roles in a few shows and movies that weren't tiny extras, I ran into Amanda in an audition. She was an actress for a brief period, but quit when she decided journaling and exposing were her passion. I remembered her face, how she walked into that room with the directors bold and confident and walked out like she had the part. She had tried out for the same part as I did — Maggie Rose, an innocent seventeen year old who was the younger sister of the main character of the movie. The part wasn't too big, just enough for one with a built enough resume to snatch up. _I_ got the role. Instead, she was awarded the main role.

I didn't know about the following until a cast mate called to check up on my well-being a year ago, but Amanda had spread vicious rumors about how I was so envious of her, and how my accidental line mistakes were as a matter of fact my desire to bring her down. Behind her pearly white grins and her supportive words, she was nothing more than an illiberal fool who taunted me with her eyes. It was past my knowledge, which was I admired her and held her in my highest regards.

Things took a turn for the worst. Amanda didn't want to stop with her false image towards me and her vicious propaganda. She wanted a little more — she wanted everyone to feel the same way she did. She wanted to be the leader in a war that helpless me could only watch as it destructed my path. She took me into a steep road that I never wanted to be involved with again. Hardcore parties.

Fake ID's and popular clubs were a completely foreign turn to me as an eighteen year old, mostly because I had recently departed my family's home and had rented my own. But they were a daily routine for her. She was only twenty and had less than a year until she was permitted to go out with her real ID, but that didn't put a halt on her vigorous Hollywood life. I accepted her invitation to go with a few of her close friends. She had gotten me wasted and left me stranded in the club with no one to take me home. I could still commemorate my apprehension and how nervous I was.

It was crystal clear to me that her intentions were pure sinister and she had nothing but the worst to give. Our discreet rivalry continued through the movie, but I managed to cut ties with her when she switched from acting to being a journalist. We had never spoke since.

I explained the history between the brunette doyenne as briefly and truthfully as possible to Brant.

"What a bitch."

"Tell me about it," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"But she's so... hot?" he added, contemplating how an attractive woman could be any sorts of evil. But I knew how mean my gender could be. We've created petty inhumanity, and people like Amanda were the reason why society, at large, was so annihilated.

She just angered me, and to find out that she was Ian's wife to be? Either something fishy was going on or fate truly didn't want him and I to be together. If I had to guess, I'd say both.

"So?" I defended. "If a less attractive lady did the same thing, would you believe it then? Actually — don't answer that. I know what your reply would be."

His snickers were drowned out by the chattering in the background. I could make out Ian's guffawing and Janel's giggling... or was that Amanda's giggling?

"You know what I think you should do?" he asked.

"Brant, I'm _not_ going to strip tease for you."

"Nah, I don't mean anything for me! You should talk to him, one-on-one."

"You know," I started, an exasperated sigh rolling off my lips, "I'm getting real tired of people telling me to go talk to him."

"Do it, for the last time," he spoke huskily, "but this time, no interruptions. And no running away. You didn't do either of those, and look what happened? You guys are friends now."

"Remember when I wanted to be more than friends though? Let's see, that was two weeks ago, right?" I claimed.

"Do you still want to be more than friends with him?"

"I—"

I stopped myself, slipping my bottom lip in between my teeth and gently gnawing. I knew what I wanted, but what I wanted would only benefit me. Ian didn't want me. He was happy with Amanda. If he wasn't, he would dump her, right?

I thought about what Brant told me the night we roamed around the hospital. How he felt as if he was being forced into the marriage, like it was more of an arrangement than a choice. How his parents were very fond of Amanda as a girlfriend and a wife. Besides her looks, what was so amazing about her? Was it because she was successful? Because she was well-known or because she had more than enough money for a family of ten? What did she have that I didn't have?

"No," I finally declared, a bit more grimly than I meant, tapping my fingers against the desk rhythmically.

"Ah, don't lie," he said. I could practically feel his cocky smirk vibrating through the phone. "As your mother used to always say: honesty is the best policy."

I laughed at his natural response. "My mother _also_ said, if you don't have something nice to say, don't say it at all."

"Is admitting that you want to be Mrs. Harding going to be mean?" he questioned quietly.

"Believe it or not, yeah. It'll hurt people, I'll say that."

I heard the door open. As soon as I circled in my chair to get a good view of who it was, a group of eight swooshed into the room, and along with them, they brought the delicious smell of fast food and conversations of different sorts that made it hard to talk on the phone.

"Hey, can I call you back?" I asked. He agreed to it.

"_Call him_," he added before hanging up. I glanced down at the phone, its display being the duration of the call before it disappeared to the contact page. I swiped down until I got to the 'I's'. Ian's name was the first one there. I had only a minute before someone from the team dismissed all conversations and brought everyone together with their undivided attention. Which also meant a minute to decide if I wanted to contact him.

I tapped on his name and pressed on the message button, typing in a few words, deleting what I didn't like, and rewriting. This took a while until I finally liked my message. With brief hesitation, I pressed send.

"You okay, Luce?" Debra asked worryingly. She snatched a hamburger out of the many unwrapped sandwiches scattered around the table and nudged it my way. "Eat. You seem pasty."

I accepted the burger so no one would notice the troubled side of me and unwrapped it like I was extremely hungry, when I was opposite from that. Knowing that my archenemy was sleeping with my best friend ruined my appetite.

I looked down at the message I sent one more time, only to find out that he had already sent a text back.

_Me: I have to talk to you about something. (8:48 PM)_

___Ian: Tomorrow, my house after shooting? (8:49 PM)_

_____Me: Sounds good. (8:51 PM)_

I clicked my phone off, my giddiness increasing. They all included me in their conversations as their burger filled mouths spoke, but I could only think about one special guy.

* * *

The amount of puddles spread across Ian's residence astonished me more than it should have. Spring was no joke this year in California, that was for sure. I swung my car door shut and made my way across the zephyr filled air. My heart pattered almost as loud as my shoes against the stairs to the house. One knock was all it took to send me into an even larger swivet than before.

Even in my jubilant state, I felt dubious to the whole arrangement. The amount of scenarios were horrifyingly endless. All I could tell myself was to hope for the best and expect the worst. In the end, I had to remember I was smitten with an engaged man. Right when I heard shuffling from the inside, there would be no point in decamping. My car was in eye proximity, so it would be easy enough to spot me.

Just when the door opened, I couldn't believe what I was staring back at. Ian's glistening body was wrapped in only a towel around his waist and another one bundled tightly on the top of his head. Wads of cash were rolled into his hands and I watched him swipe out a twenty. He looked up at me, his mild features altering into shock.

"Woah, what the—"

"Sorry!" I exclaimed, averting my eyes away to anything but him, even though that was the last thing I desired.

"I thought you were the pizza delivery," he informed, "come in. I'm going to go change into... clothes."

I nodded, keeping my face down until I knew he was out of sight. Did I really see him half undressed? It was one thing for him to be dry and shirtless on set as his character, but god, he was twinkling brighter than the sun and left me breathless.

Keeping my heels as quiet as I could with the contact to the carpeted floor, I shut the door behind me and took my sweet time traveling to the living room. Weeks ago, this place gave me bone-chilling memories, ones that would permit me to never step foot in the place ever again. Now that I was done being angry, an optimistic side of me arose. Maybe, just maybe, we could patch things up a hundred percent.

Staring at the feminine living room, I saw it in a different way now. Before, it was just Ian's living room. Now it was Ian and Amanda's living room. It was so flashy, so unoriginal. I couldn't help but to think it matched her well.

I slumped onto the couch, the image of Ian's gorgeous top half stuck in my head. It turned me on beyond my highest beliefs, more than the time we taped a scene for Aria and Ezra as their first time having sex. My fingers smoothly ran against my lips and I couldn't help but laughing at myself.

Ian wandered in, jeans and a t-shirt covering him up. His hair was still wet, and he carried a pizza box in his hand. "The real pizza guy dropped by," he commented, plopping right next to me with his sheepish grin. The air was filled with thin, awkward tension, which I had yet to fully apologize for. Or did I already do that by the door?

"I'm sorry," I blurted out before I could have the chance to stop myself. "I thought you'd know I'd be here."

"You don't have to apologize," he responded, shrugging it off before opening the box and snatching the biggest piece. He seemed to be nonchalant about the situation, but him and I both knew he was far from that. "I knew you were dropping by, I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"This is the only time I had," I lied, "I have a lot to do today. Now's the only time I could drop by."

The only way to secure my dignity was to pretend like I wasn't anxiously waiting all day for this moment, even if I was being dishonest to the one person I hated lying to.

"You could have told me! We could have arranged it another day."

I shook my head, eyes going wide at his offer. "No, that's okay! Really, it's fine. I have an hour to waste."

He nodded, swallowing what he chewed up. "I'm proud of you. Look at how far you've gotten? Remember when the show was your whole life? Now you have your music, tons of fans, different movies, all that." His eyes coruscated, looking into mine. My heart jumped into my stomach and ran laps around, just by the way he looked at me. His praise meant the world to me.

"Thanks," I peeped. The way that came out made me want to blast my head against a wall. Thanks? That was all I could say? I could officially give myself the idiot award after that. All Ian managed to do was laugh, followed by the sound of clearing his throat. His face transformed a little enigmatic before he spilled the big question.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

I was nervous, to say the least. I had everything I wanted to say planned out in my head so I wouldn't stutter idiotically or say the wrong thing and create a mess. It wasn't too long ago that I was known as the more calm one between him and I, but ever since my feelings developed, I became more jittery, more emotional, more... not me. I wasn't blaming him though.

"I wanted to ask you a question," I began, choosing a small slice of pizza and holding them in my hands. "I hope you don't feel too weird about this, but what do you think about me?"

Judging by his face, it looked like a complicated question. "Well, I think you're fun, you're hilarious, your laugh is t—"

"No, I didn't mean it like that," I disrupted. "I mean, as a woman. Not as a friend or a person, but a woman."

"Uh." He grimaced a bit, as if answering would pain him severely. I figured that was a bad sign, unless you made that face when you wanted to tell someone you thought they were special. "I agree with you, it's pretty uncomfortable to answer that, especially when I'm not single."

I continued to stare up at him, trying to giving him no choice but to answer. Our legs were touching — no, touching was an understatement. They were against each other, which blended our shoulder next to each other and our faces a dozen inches apart, nevertheless in breathing contiguity.

His eyes met with mine, tension brewing more than ever. He looked to be a combination of nervous and lustful, like he wanted what I did. I wouldn't dare make a move, not even if he said the words 'kiss me.' I made that mistake once and a second time would deem me foolish.

"You're..." his tone was hushed when he started. I shuddered, feeling his hand make contact with my cheek and cupping my face into his large hand. "You're sexy."

He tucked in a cluster of my hair and tucked it behind my ear. If I wasn't imagining it, I could have sworn he was inching closer. My eyes flickered to his lips as he licked them down, staring back into his eyes just as quickly. Resisting my attempts to seal the deal were effortful, believe it or not.

"You're irresistible," he continued. And that was when I snickered. As much as I wanted to believe that, the evidence belonged to the night at the attic.

"Yeah, right," I muttered. "You didn't even want to kiss me." I looked down, feeling somewhat guilty for saying it. But it was true.

The hand that Ian's hands resided on tipped up, and my head went with it. The sound of my breath getting caught in my throat was intense. "Does it look like I want to kiss you now?" he questioned, resting his forehead on mine. _Do it!_ I screamed in my head, biting my lower lip. _Go for it! Kiss me already!_

If I didn't really believe fate not wanting that chance for Ian and I before, I did as soon as we heard the sound of a slamming door and a female's voice calling out, "I'm home!" I jerked my body away from his, all the lust and desire I carried for him gone in an instant. The pizza box that sat on our legs toppled to the ground. Luckily, the box was shut, so none of the slices escaped.

As Ian picked it up, I held my breath, staring at the entrance way to see who had entered, even if I knew who it would be. And just as I predicted, in black pumps and a flashy outfit came in queen of the world:

Amanda.

Besides a little maturity and the blonde streaks she highlighted into her long and luxurious hair, she looked the exact same. When she saw me, she didn't seem to be as shocked as I expected. In fact, whatever type of surprise she harbored wasn't revealed. Her eyebrows slightly rose, seeing Ian and I on opposite sides of the couch, which seemed to be very unrealistic to me. I was sure we had been caught.

"Ooh, honey, you didn't tell me you had a friend over!" she squealed, the biggest smile on her face. She slipped off her shoes and dropped her shopping bags on the ground, keeping her gaze on me like a hawk.

"Yeah, I was just leaving," I said, standing up. Ian stood on his feet barely a second after I did, the anxious look vibrating from his face.

"Oh, please, stay!" she insisted, stepping towards me.

"Yeah, stay," Ian nodded. I could tell he was only saying that because his fiancee did.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Amanda questioned, looking at him ambiguously. Did she not remember me? That couldn't be right... we had met only six years ago. Surely, you wouldn't forget someone you were trying to torture so easily, right? At least, _I_ didn't. Maybe she victimized everyone she worked on set with. She did it as a career, right?

"Right, right," Ian jumped, "Amanda, this is Lucy Hale. I work with her on the show. Luce, this is Amanda Haynes, the most successful blogger of the year and my... _fiancee_."

I nodded, but Amanda practically flung herself over me for a hug. "Ian's never mentioned you before! It's so nice to meet you."

Now, I knew. I understood her intentions, especially when she pulled away and looked at me with the same fake smile she had on when we shot scenes together and hung out at the bar. She wasn't being as nice as her smile was, which angered me. Flashbacks of the night she left me stranded visioned my mind, but I pushed them away.

I couldn't take it anymore. Not when she slung her arm around Ian's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. She could do that in public, in private, whenever she wanted to. I couldn't.

"I have to go," I said, pushing my way past them and for the door. In the distance, I could have sworn I heard the evil cackle of Amanda from in the distance.

* * *

I took my time to get to my house, where Troian said she'd make a homemade dinner. I calmed myself down in the car, telling myself that Amanda was only trying to get to me. Besides, I bet her and Ian's kisses weren't as hot as the one that was going to happen between Ian and I, right? That was all it took to get me back into a good mood.

I was pretty ecstatic to tell her of the series of events that had unfolded within days, especially since we hadn't talked in days. Whenever I got home, she was fast asleep. When I woke up, she was already at set, and there was nowhere private to talk there.

All I could think about the car ride home was how intimately close we got, and it had nothing to do with Pretty Little Liars. It was all on our own, this time. I didn't care that Amanda pretended like she didn't know me. I didn't even care that my feelings for Ian were jumbled after today. I just wanted to bask in my delight.

A delightful smell greeted me from the kitchen. No one was there, but pots and pans were scattered on the counters. Different meals were being made on the stove and in the oven. I couldn't resist myself from opening each pot and checking out what remained in each of them, as well as the oven.

"Troian?" I exclaimed as loud as I could after taking a sneak peek. "Troian, where are you?"

I wandered into my bedroom, seeing Troian sitting respectively on the bed. Her head was down and closed, her phone grasped in her hand as if her life depended on it. As soon as I saw what I assumed to be a tear fly from her face, I knew in an instant that something wasn't right.

I rushed to her side, peering down at her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I could fully see her face when she looked up, glinting with tears.

"The doctor called."

Perplexed, I hopped onto the bed and watched her closely, waiting for her to finish what she wanted to say. What doctor? Why would they call her?

"You know the pregnancy test they gave me?" she asked me.

"Yeah..."

I had a bad feeling I knew what she was going to say. I prayed that the worst hadn't happened. It couldn't. No, it didn't. But, when she confirmed my thoughts, my heart sunk to the ground.

**"They got it all wrong. Lucy, I'm pregnant."**

* * *

**A/N**: Hey, guyssss! What did you think of this chapter? We are now halfway into the story, since I've decided on sixteen/seventeen chapters. I just wanted to say thank you for the feedback and all the response for this. Just you _reading_ this makes my day.


	9. Unanticipated

Three hours and two boxes of Kleenex later, a red-nosed Troian laid in my arms, her weeps rang into the bedroom. Besides turning off the heat for all of the meals in the kitchen, I hadn't moved out of the position I was in. I didn't dare. Her trembling body violently shook, but I was too wrapped up into the situation to be attentive to that.

She was harboring a fetus in her belly. More importantly, she was harboring Patrick's baby. I had never wanted Troian to admit that she cheated with him on another guy so much as I did then. Unfortunately, unlike Patrick, she was too pure, too genuine. I had never feared for her as much as I did then. Being a rape victim seemed hard enough. Having the worst case scenario fall into your hands was even worse.

This was a baby. One that laid responsible to Troian for the rest of her life, unless she used other resorts, ones that would be arduous to go through with. I couldn't imagine her deciding to give up the child to another family, or even worse, abortion. But she still had her whole career ahead of her. Support wasn't the problem because she had her friends and family. Money wasn't the problem, since she was part of the main cast of a very successful television show. It was to know that this child would be a constant reminder of what she went through, and there would be no way to escape it.

And in all of this, I couldn't get myself to say the right words. All I could do was sit there and stroke her hair, repeating apologies over and over even until my voice became hoarse, even if I wasn't at any fault. I couldn't even preserve the strong side of me and keep in my tears. I was a pathetic excuse for a friend.

"Are you hungry, sweetie?" I asked after the crying had hushed into occasional sniffles and hiccups. "Do you want me to bring you some of the food you cooked?"

I peered at her expectantly, waiting for a reply. Her eyes were an appalling red and the bags under her eyes were darker than the interior of a forest at night. Before I could disband the question, I heard her mutter something I didn't catch.

"What, honey? What'd you say?" I pushed my wild hair away from eyesight, staring at her as if that was a way I could hear her better.

"I said no, but could you call Keegan?"

I nodded frantically, knowing that the only thing she wanted me to do was obtainable. She sat up and began furiously attacking her face with the back of her palm to wipe her tears away. I snatched the box of Kleenex and tossed it to her before hopping off the bed and running into the dining room to grab my purse. My phone remained in the front pocket, where it always was when it wasn't in my pocket.

"Keegan, Keegan.." I mumbled, scrolling down the contact list and pressing the green call symbol next to his name. I headed back to the room, my footsteps pattered against the ground. As I heard the ringing, I wondered why exactly Troian needed to talk to him specifically. They were so secretive, especially the night they came to my house for her first night. Where were they until three in the morning? And the suitcases...

My thoughts were erased when I heard someone's voice through the line — a child's voice.

"Hello?" the unknown one said in a sing-song voice, just when I entered the room.

Suzanne?" I questioned, "Suzy? Is that you, bub?"

Troian glanced up at the sound of the familiar name, but the usual smile that accompanied the look was nowhere to be found.

"Yes," the young girl responded, hissing the last letter, "Uncle Keegan's in the bathroom, but he says I can't talk to strangers."

"It's Lucy, you know me!" I informed. She started to say something, but she cut off. Then, heavy movement occurred, followed by Keegan's voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Keegan," I greeted. Troian's eyes fluttered to the phone expectantly.

"I'm sorry, did Suzanne call?" he asked hurriedly.

"No, no! I called you. Troi wanted to speak to you."

Before he could say anything, Troian's hand swiped at my phone and brought it to her ear, dashing out of the bedroom in seconds. My hands slithered to the back of my neck. I was in an absolute daze, more curious than ever. Could I sneak up on her and listen in onto the conversation, as discourteous as that seemed?

After self-debating, I decided it would be too extreme. I wouldn't take away her privacy. She was going through a lot anyways.

I settled myself in the bed, reaching for my phone in my pocket before realizing it was in the grasp of Troian. I guessed it had to be eight or nine o'clock by then. All the errands I meant to run had no meaning at that time of night, so a good rest was all I wanted before my despondent friend came back in the room.

"Lucy! Lucy! Auntie Lucy, wake up! I'm here!"

My eyes shot open in an instant, feeling the bed jerk around uncontrollably. I let out a shriek, getting off my stomach and sitting up. An adorable Suzanne jumped up and down next to me, the jumpy springs of the bed bringing her into the air. Luckily, she was short enough and the ceiling was high up, so a fatal collision wouldn't come to pass.

"Hi, cutie!" I smiled, raising my arms up in the air. "Come here."

She took a final jump before leaping into my lap. Her shoulder length hair was out of the ponytail it normally resided in. Instead, it flowed in loose, ash blonde waves below her collarbones. I rolled my fingers in between them, soothing her invigorated state.

"Is your uncle here too?" I asked her. She nodded in response, pointing to the door.

"He's with Troian in the kitchen. Come on, I'll show you!"

I giggled as the six year old got a grasp of my hand and pulled on me, leading me out into the hall and to the right, where Troian and Keegan were at, speaking as enigmatically as two could get. The doe-eyed woman caught me emerging in. She gave Keegan a look, who stopped precipitously and glanced behind him. I awkwardly shifted my shirt around, the center visibly damp from Troian's never ending tears. Suzanne ran over to her uncle, where he placed her on his lap.

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked, trudging over to them with my arms crossed. The two exchanged side glances, keeping their mouths shut. I sighed, closing my eyes for a second. "You know, whatever this thing is that you guys are keeping from me—"

I never got to finish that sentence. My head swiveled behind me at the sound of the door, followed by the familiar squeaks of my name.

"Good god, please tell me she's not here!" I moaned, leaning my head back and clutching my forehead.

"Who is it?" Troian asked hoarsely, her eyes scrunched up.

"Get the door," I evaded, turning on my heel and racing for my bedroom. I knew that voice from hours ago. Why was Amanda suddenly showing up at my door at this time of night? More importantly, why was she here? How'd she get the address to my house?

All of those questions floated around in my head as I slipped off the tear-stained sweater, putting on a freshly new t-shirt and a light white hoodie to top it off. My jean shorts were acceptable, so no worries there. I walked out, but very sluggish as not to be heard. I wanted to listen into her phony greetings.

"She's never told me about you," I heard Troian say curiously.

"Well, that's because we've only met today!" Amanda falsely declared. That would be the first lie she's ever told to her, but most likely the billionth lie in her lifetime.

"Oh, okay. Well, come in, I guess."

No. No, no, no. I pinched the flesh on my arm, hoping that I wouldn't feel it and was actually in a dream. Unfortunately, I didn't realize the power I had with my fingernails. I let out a high pitched yelp before slapping my hand across my mouth, eyes open in horror.

"What was that?" Amanda questioned.

"I.. I don't know. Luce, is that you over there?"

I was caught. There was no need to conceal my presence anymore. I walked farther in, becoming clearly visible to everyone in sight. I could feel my face getting hot, but tried to cover it with the sleeves of my hoodie. It wasn't until I saw Ian standing right behind Amanda that I knew I was blushing powerfully.

"Hi."

"I thought you were a mouse, darling!" Amanda said, shifting a plastic bag from one hand to another. "That was awfully squeaky, whatever that was back there."

I felt rage emerge from within me, faster than any other time. I was normally a level-headed person, I learned to grasp that quality when I slowly began to gain recognition so I could save myself from any temperamental outbursts and give myself a bad image. But with her high-pitched voice and her taunts that were, 'only jokes,' everything I practice drained away.

"You want to know who else is squeaky?" I challenged, stepping towards her. Her chocolate brown eyes narrowed.

"Hey, hey, ladies," Keegan stepped forward. "This charming young lady came here with Ian to give you something."

"I felt bad on how we left things back there a few hours ago," she added, an apologetic frown framing her perfectly structured jawline. Was I the only one able to see past her fake looks and deceitful words? "So, I convinced Ian to take me to your place! But it's not as big as I thought it'd be. Almost as small as yours, Ian." She giggled at her own joke. What the hell was she talking about? My house was huge enough for one person, and Ian's had an outdoor pool _and_ an immensely wide patio.

I glanced towards my crush, who seemed to be taking her put-down as if it were normal. _Was_ it normal to him? Did she spew insults left and right to him? And if so, why wouldn't he speak up for himself?

"You're pretty!" Suzanne dawdled, looking up at Amanda.

"Aw, thank you, little girl!" she replied, flashing a grin.

"You..you know what?" Troian said, leaping to the chair behind her and snatching her coat. Keegan was well on his way to do the same thing. "We're going to go to eat out. Keeg and I have to discuss some things—"

"-and Suzy's hungry too," Keegan finished off, "right, Suzanne?"

"I'm only hungry if it's McDonald's," she said smartly.

"Done," he said before picking her up in his arms. I gawked at them, giving them a look that palpably said, '_No! Don't leave me!_' They shrugged simultaneously, walking by the engaged couple to reach the door.

"I'm sorry we couldn't have stayed longer," Troian said, "we'll talk again some other time, hopefully."

"Bye, Ian!" Suzy waved. "Bye pretty lady!"

Without another word, they were gone. That left Amanda, Ian, and myself.

It was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

**SNEAK PEEK:**

Somehow, she had the audacity to pull such a stunt like this. And it had to be at my workplace, for crying out loud! Was that the reason she came over the night before? To drunken me up and make me spill all of my secrets — this one in particular?

"How _fucking_ dare you?"

The words didn't come out of my mouth, nor did it come from Amanda's. Shay's heels clacked against the floors before she stood in front of me, sheltering my incredibly tiny body from the vicious verbal attacks of the psychotic witch.

"Who are you?" Amanda asked, cringing her nose as if Shay was seasonal pollen floating in the air and she didn't want any of it in her nose.

"Don't act like you don't know me, Amanda," she roared, her voice loud and echoey in the halls of the dressing rooms. "If you and your fake boobs and your plastic face don't spin on your Jimmy Choo knockoffs and walk away, the next thing that'll be knocked off are your teeth."

* * *

**A/N**: hey guys! sorry this chapter couldn't be any longer, but i promise you, the wait will be well worth it. i was wondering if you guys wanted any sneak peeks to the next chapter like i did to this one? i would totally understand if it's a no, some people aren't fond of hints. i hope everyone's saturday is going along well and i'll see you hopefully by the beginning of the week!


	10. Black And Blue

"This food is amazing," Ian complimented, shoving something crispy into his mouth. "Really, you're an amazing cook."

Though I wasn't the one to prepare the thousands of meals set across the dining room table, I smiled. "I didn't cook it. Troian did. I think she's a pretty amazing cook too."

"Well, _I_ happen to disagree," Amanda declared as if it were the most important thing to be known. "These chefs I know cook twice as better. They work at _Angelini Osteria_, that Italian restaurant in Beverly Hills."

I bit my tongue hard enough so that I wouldn't spew insults her way. Looking down at the plate of casserole salad I sectioned onto my plate, I realized that my appetite had severely drowned. Who could blame me? It was by far the worst dinner engagement I had taken participation in. No, scratch that. It was the worst dinner engagement I had been _forced_ into.

I felt Ian's leg wrap around my bare legs, snapping me out of my thoughts and bringing me back into the reality of Amanda's rants about the extraneous restaurant no one cared about. I looked up at him. The corners of his lips tugged up, forming the smallest of smiles. I smiled back before looking back down at my late dinner. I loved how sneaky we were being, especially when his fiancee was so vain, she couldn't stop talking about herself for a second to notice that Ian and I were playing secret footsie under the table. I let out a snicker, but turned it into a cough when Amanda's eyes turned to me.

"Sorry," I muttered, "the casserole got stuck in my throat."

She shrugged, picking up the napkin under her silverware and dabbed on the vertexes of her lips. "Told you the food sucks. It's barely digestible."

"You know what?" I slammed my spoon down onto the table, uncaring of whether I create any scratches or not. "If you came here with the sole purpose to insult me and my friend and the food and everything else, I can show you to the door."

Her eyes went wide, not in horror, but chaste-mannered. I knew what she was trying to do. Her innocent act was approaching and Ian would be the only one to fall for it. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he took her side. That's how insincere she was.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Lucy," she pouted. "I only came here to straighten out how we left things awhile ago."

My gaze was kept on her. What she said was double-sided — it could have meant how I busted out of that house hours ago _or_ years ago, when her taunting began. It didn't matter, though. I was all for creating a solution, just not when it came to her. She constantly uttered things that shouldn't be said and never apologizes. Unfortunately, I had to be associated with someone like that.

"Hey, how about you give her the gift we bought?" Ian suggested to the girl on his left, cutting the silence in half.

"Oh!"

I watched as she picked up the fancy looking bag filled with colorful tissue paper, which was prepared very beautifully. Instead of giving it to me, she made the decision to open it up for herself and pull out the wine bottle.

"We decided to get you a bottle of wine," Ian said, raising his eyebrows. "Actually, Amanda did. Isn't she sweet?"

I wanted to barf. Sweet was the last thing I'd call her. She let out an 'awe' and put her manicured nails against his cheek, pressing her lips against his. I averted my eyes away from them, feeling a pang of jealousy strike me. I was unable to breathe for a moment, but used my cup to conceal any and all signs of it. It was safe to say I had never felt so embarrassed in my life, ever. I wanted to cry and strangle her at the same time.

I shot my legs away from Ian's, pushing them onto the bars of my seat so I wouldn't bump into his anymore. That was his signal to disconnect himself from her surgically plumped lips.

"Goodness, _sorry_ Lucy!" Amanda said, not bothering to look at me. She continued to play with the ends of his hair, taunting me with her abilities. "I just get carried away. Let me crack open that bottle of wine. I'll find some wine cups while I'm at it." She flashed her pearly whites before heading back into the kitchen with the bag, flaunting her curvy body with every step.

I picked up my spoon and played around with the salad before launching the fork into it. The harsh noise of the plate and the silverware clanging together emitted screeching sound waves. Ian winced.

"Lucy," he started, a hushed apologetic tone along with it, which made me think about our almost kiss. Suddenly, my anguish thoughts were wiped from the surface. I looked up at him, humming in response. His face softened at how easygoing I was being, but caution still etched his features in place. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" I questioned, "how we almost kissed? Or how your sleazy fiancee made a big show of your love just a few minutes ago? 'Cause I'm fine talking about either."

I had no idea where such anger came from, but I most certainly didn't plan to say something like that. Immediately, I felt remorseful and opened my mouth to apologize, but I was struggling to find the words.

"Look, Lucy. She's not as bad as you think," he told me, reaching for the hand that wasn't stabbing at the plate. I pulled away instinctively, shoving it in between my thighs securely. What was taking over me? I didn't feel angry, and yet my actions could prove me otherwise. I didn't feel upset, but tears were threatening to fill in the corners of my eyes. Why was I being uncontrollably emotional?

"You'd be surprised to know who she really is," I told him before shoving a mouthful of the cut up bits in my mouth as a way out of talking anymore.

"What do you mean?" he spoke, louder than his quiet tone. I scolded myself for letting that out of the bag. For some reason, telling him about my history with Amanda wasn't a part of my to-do list. To expose him to her cruelty would conflict him big time. Ian and I might have known each other longer, but there was no doubt in my mind that he'd choose her over me any day. And I didn't blame him. She was beautifully stunning and I was merely standing five foot two with big eyebrows.

"Nothing," I muttered after swallowing down what was left. When Amanda entered the dining room, I was somewhat relieved. I wouldn't know how to evade his questions.

As the taller lady began an entire rant of how she had gotten lost in her own house the first time she bought it, she poured the opened sparkling wine in glasses I used only once before. It struck me odd, the amount of bubbles it had.

"Why is it so fizzy?" I called her out on it as she handed me a glass. I brought my nose to it and sniffed as if the wine would have emitted the most heinous smell known to man.

"I added a little sugar into it," she nodded as she handed another glass to Ian, "the cranberry flavor makes it taste a little dull."

I glanced at Ian, who was staring at me as if he were trying to get my attention. I had a feeling he was still thinking about our previous conversation, but he wasn't bringing it up. I was okay, for the time being.

Amanda clanked her beverage against Ian's. "To us."

He said nothing but continued to stare at me as I downed my drink, a peculiar sensation spreading through my throat. My eyes slightly widened at the burning feel.

"Is there alcohol in this?" I asked, raising my now empty glass. Being tipsy was something I was desperately in need of, but not in front of the two of them. I didn't know what I would do, since I was a happy drunk according to my friends. Embarrassing myself and having Amanda post a video of me on her blog, which received an average of seven million hits biweekly, would kill me.

"It's wine, sweetie," she replied, "about thirty percent of it is alcohol."

"Yeah, I know how much alcohol is in wine," I lashed out, snapping my fingers in the process.

"Could've fooled me," she rolled her eyes, abandoning her drink on the table.

I was still somewhat skeptical, but I decided to let it go. Escorting them out should have been my next move, but instead, I managed to blank out.

* * *

"Lucy, wake up. It's five, we have to go to work."

The moment my eyes shot open, a massive migraine practically split my head wide open. I fisted clutches of my bed hair, my own groans becoming sensitive to my hearing.

"Woah," Troian muttered, "she wasn't lying when she said you had one too many."

Her voice was so _loud_. If I hadn't caught her last words, I most likely would've fallen back asleep.

"What'd you just say? Are you talking about Amanda?"

She nodded her head far too slowly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling from being scrunched into a befuddled demeanor.

"When Keegan dropped me home a few hours later, you were fast asleep. Ian and your friend waited for me to get home because they were watching over you."

"She's not my friend," I grunted, pulling the comforter off my body and snatching the water bottle from my dresser, only to chug the entire bottle down to the last drop. I caught my breath, panting at the minimal amount of breath I caught while consuming the liquid.

"Whoever she is," she stated, following me with her eyes, "but she said you got drunk off your top."

I gasped, my headache pounding at my temples. Again, she found a way to humiliate me and presume me to look like a fool in front of my best friend. I could only commemorate taking in one drink. Then again, what else could I remember? The more I struggled to bring up a horrific memory after my first drink, the more complex it became.

"I swear... I didn't."

"Are you trying to convince me or are you trying to convince yourself?" she smirked.

"Both," I admitted, copying her coy look. I examined her current condition compared to the previous night. She seemed to be laughing everything off, even though I could tell there was something off about her. She was too reserved. Normally, the days we had to go to set together were the days she'd tear off the blankets away from me and tuck them out of my distance just so I'd wake up, unlike her gentle tap and a voice that barely passed a perceptible one.

She let out a yawn, looking at me to point at my closet, a gesture that I needed to change out of my clothes. I forgot to change out of my denim shorts the night before, and full blame would be put on our uninvited guests. My waist was lined from the tight lock the shorts had against me, and it was a relief to slip out of them and get into something new. Troian exited to brew some coffee and give me privacy, even though we changed around each other without feeling uneasiness.

I heard my phone ring from the other side of my bed as soon as I put on a comfortable ensemble of sweatpants and a v-neck top with a scarf as an accessory. I leaped for the phone, pressing talk and holding it against my ear in no time once I saw the familiar contact name.

"Ashley!"

"Luce! Feelin' better?"

I crawled up from my laying position and off the bed once again. "Am I sick?"

"I don't think so," she said, "don't you remember calling me last night? You were telling me about how you had cinnamon buns and you said if anyone came near them, you'd strangle them with Troian's spaghetti. I'm so glad I got that app where you can record conversations, or else I would have never gotten drunk Lucy recorded."

She might have been chuckling, but I was absolutely mortified. How could I have been so careless? I couldn't have consumed too much alcohol with such a small amount of wine. Unless it wasn't wine.

"This isn't happening," I groaned as I made my way out my bedroom and into the kitchen, where Troian sat. Her eyebrows were knitted in concentration, furiously tapping at her smartphone.

"Believe me, it happened," Ashley mocked, "what happened anyways? Were you out clubbing or something?"

"It's a really long story."

"Tell me all about it on set," she said. "Oh, and also, don't go through the front entrance. Tell Troi not to either."

"Why?" I asked even though I had a good feeling I knew what it was. Prankster Ashley was going to strike.

"Let's just say I have a surprise for a certain Daugherty," she said evasively, "he pointed out my back fat last night in front of Ryan, and he's _so_ not getting away with it."

I laughed, knowing about Brant and Ashley's ongoing war of antics. As I took a seat across my friend, I heard a beep coming through the phone.

"Hold on, Ash," I spoke, "someone's on the other line."

"I have to go anyways," she informed, "just talk to me on set. Bye, tipsy!"

I scoffed at her joke, a smile forming across my face. When I saw the caller ID, I felt my heart skip, pounding fiercely against my chest. It was Ian.

My attempts to shield my apprehension from Troian was useless, as she had no intentions of ripping her eyes away from her phone. It was odd to me — I felt bitter towards Ian the night before, and yet I wanted to stay talking with him all day at that moment.

"Hello?" I said, feigning to act as normal as possible.

"Hey, Lucy-Goosy," he nicknamed. I could feel the goofy grin emitting from through the phone, and it was contagious to me, since I grinned soon after. "You feeling okay?"

My smile vanished just as fast as it came into sight. "Wh-what?"

"Last night... it's okay, we don't have to talk about... _you know_."

"No, I _don't_ know," I spoke. "What did I do?"

"You don't remember?" he questioned, much like Ashley did.

"Again — no. I don't," I said, picking up my mug and bringing it to my lips. My irritability was shown greatly, but I didn't care. I just wanted to know what I did _this_ time. It couldn't have been too bad.

"You were kind of coming onto me when Amanda was in the bathroom. Grinding on me and stuff."

I spewed up my coffee, my eyes went wide. I began coughing severely, waving Troian's concerned looks away like I was completely okay, even though I wasn't. As I scurried off to the sink to gulp down some water, a panicky sensation rushed through my veins. I didn't know what I was more upset about — doing something so humiliating or not being conscious enough to be able to enjoy what I was doing. _Not_ that I would do it if I had the choice, but it wouldn't hurt.

"You're not dead, right?" he asked, most likely because of my sudden choking.

"Sort of," I answered, feeling distraught. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what I was doing."

"It's okay, Luce," he chuckled.

"No, it's not," I said more forcefully, wiping my face with a fresh cloth I found in one of the cabinets. "You're a married guy."

"_Engaged_ guy," he corrected.

"But you're going to be married, right?" I said, walking out of the kitchen so that the conversation couldn't be heard by anyone except for the two of us. Silence met me through the other side. It seemed as if the reality that we were never going to work was settling in, not only for me, but for Ian too.

I exited the house and made my way to the cozy patio chair, where I waited for him to say anything. I was still somewhat speechless to my actions, but curiosity beat everything at that point. I wanted to know what we were going to do, where we were going to take our friendship to.

"If you had to choose between Amanda or I, who would you choose?" I asked him, taking a sharp inhale of air. I knew it was unfair of me to ask, but I had to know. Would he go against me, the one who helped him out when his mother deceased, the one he's known longer, the one he's shared more memories with, for a woman who's had more plastic work done than Barbie and prides herself on looks and gossip? He wanted to kiss me the day before, that I knew. He was going to, if it weren't for Amanda. I couldn't have been dreaming it, especially since I could _still_ feel his hot breath against my lips. It was much more intense than our scenes as Aria and Ezra.

I waited patiently for to him to respond, but as time went by and all I could hear were his heavy breathing and sighs of frustration, I was feeling worried. Was this something he had to think about?

"I don't know," he finally said, his words slow and fully enunciated. I felt my stomach churn and I placed a hand over to calm it down. My worst fear had finally come true.

"Thanks, Ian," I said sarcastically. I pressed end, despite his upcoming explanation. I clutched my head, another migraine taking over. I took the nearest thing around me, a vase of flowers, and threw it into the open air as hard as I could. The vase shattered on the grass, pieces of glass scattered around the red flowers. Though it didn't take a toll on my anger, my energy decreased slightly.

"Troi, I'm going to run all the way to the set," I called out into the house. A jog was what I needed to blow off steam. I adjusted my bag and set off for the road.

* * *

"I don't want the girls to know about us," I said to Ian from the other side of the desk. He made his way around, cautious yet anxious. His hand trailed to my face, unable to break eye contact from me. I waited for his next words, knowing exactly what they would be, word-for-word.

"They won't. No one has to know except for us. It'll be our secret."

Just as our noses bumped, the door opened, and in stormed Troian, Ashley, and Shay, looks of determination and shock carved in their features. Ian and I looked back at them, staring at Ashley in particular. An unpleasant absence of sound rang through out the classroom before Ashley giggled,

"Crap, I forgot my line."

A chaos of laughter erupted from the cast, as well as the crew located from behind the cameras. I shook my head, a grin spreading across my face at her klutziness. We had gone over the same scene about four times, twice because they wanted Ian and I to have different blocking, once because Shay and Ashley almost tripped on each other from bursting in too fast, and the fourth time being right then.

"Let's take five and we'll get back to this scene!" I heard Norman, one of the producers, call out from behind all the equipment. Everyone scattered to wherever they desired. It took me awhile to notice Ian's hand was gone, but his arm was still wrapped around my waist. I stared at his vest, eyes trailing upwards, until I reached his eyes, which were permeated with volatile lust. Even though we were completely alone and free to do or talk about whatever, I would refuse to be in the presence of him alone. Not now, at least.

"Excuse me," I said demurely, slipping out of his grasp and out of the classroom set. I headed down the fake hallways and took an exit through a door, which was seemingly another classroom, but in reality, was another way to get to the main lounge.

The lounge was louder than usual, and I noticed it when entering. Everyone seemed to be laughing. As soon as I saw Brant covered in a brown, gooey substance, I knew Ashley's plan had worked out for the best. I watched as he ran up from behind Ashley and picked her up, the entity covering her entire back. A shriek escaped from her lips as she struggled to push her away. Finally, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and let her go; sending her flinging for the ground in fits of laughter.

"Idiots," I mumbled under my breath as I giggled, almost forgetting about my brief moment with Ian. It was when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see the one person I abhorred that I was thrown back in realism.

"Lucy!" Amanda said, her fingers wiggling beside her shoulder. It took me a while to realize that it was some sort of wave, one that I didn't like in the least. It wasn't real. I didn't want her talking to me, more so because I didn't want her to relive any moments from last night that I enacted.

"You're not supposed to be here," I informed, skipping the greetings, "unless you have a visitors pass signed by a cast member."

She held up the laminated paper, which had 'VISITOR'S PASS' bolded at the top, along with Ian's signature endorsed at the bottom.

"Well, Ian's upstairs."

"I'm not here to talk to my sugar bun," she said, smoothing out the sparkly shirt that hid her faux chest. "I'm here to talk to you."

I crossed my arms defensively, shifting my weight to one side of my body. "What do you want?"

It was then that I saw her true identity in place. Her ersatz facade of compassion was replaced with a snarl. Her penciled in eyebrow had risen up. A dark shade of devilry shaded her face as she towered over me.

"I want you to stop seeing Ian. For good."

That's what she wanted? For me to break off all connection to my friend? She was out of her scandal-filled mind if she believed that was ever going to happen. For her to demand such a thing tempted me to test her confidence, but I decided against it.

"We have to see each other," I told her, "it's something called Pretty Little Liars. A show we have to tape together."

"I don't mean here, you twit," she insulted, "I mean outside business related locations." She pulled out her phone and began tapping on it.

"And if I don't?" I tested. She pressed on something and rose it in the air between us. I gave her a questioning look, but understood what was going on when I heard a slurred voice — _my slurred voice_ — from the phone.

_'You know Troian's boyfriend? You knowwww. You know, you know— that dumbass, Patrick. He beat down on her. But then he got her pregnant. She's pregnant! I think I might be a godmother. Shh, don't tell anyone I told you this. It's a secret."_

She pressed the stop button, a triumphant look incised her face. This achievement was something she prided herself on, like it was the one thing she had that could finally shut me down and bring her happiness.

"If you don't, this is going on my blog," she said. "And Twitter and Facebook and every single social media website available."

"How the hell did you get that?" I asked her, digging my nails into my arm as a desperate struggle not to cry.

"I slipped a little something into your drink," she smiled. I finally grasped why I was so drunk from a single glass. "Do we have a deal?"

Somehow, she had the audacity to pull such a stunt like this. And it had to be at my workplace, for crying out loud! Was that the reason she came over the night before? To drunken me up and make me spill all of my secrets — this one in particular?

"How _fucking_ dare you?"

The words didn't come out of my mouth, nor did it come from Amanda's. Shay's heels clacked against the floors before she stood in front of me, sheltering my incredibly tiny body from the vicious verbal attacks of the psychotic witch.

"Who are you?" Amanda asked, cringing her nose as if Shay was seasonal pollen floating in the air and she didn't want any of it in her nose.

"Don't act like you don't know me, Amanda," she roared, her voice loud and echoey in the halls of the dressing rooms. "If you and your fake boobs and your plastic face don't spin on your Jimmy Choo knockoffs and walk away, the next thing that'll be knocked off are your teeth."

I linked my hand around Shay's arm, as if she'd be some sort of protection. I believed Amanda would back down, but to my dismay, she stood up taller. They were about the same height, but Amanda had on heels. They challenged each other with their brown, almond-shaped eyes.

"Don't let me catch you in The Hills," Amanda said, starting to back away, "you'll regret it."

"The Hills are for snobby, stuck up bitches like yourself," Shay stated, earning a chuckle from me, "so leave Lucy alone and go back to your habitat."

With a final glare, she took off. The clacking of her pumps were the last thing I heard, prior to silence.

"Please don't tell anyone about Troian," I said quietly, my heart threatening to burst from out of my rib cage. "Please."

"Why would I?" she asked. She seemed to show me pity, but I didn't want it. I didn't want to feel as hopeless as I really was. I wanted to continue being friends with Ian, but I didn't want to lose my friendship with Troian. She'd kill me in my sleep if that secret went out. She even had the key to my house, she could do it.

"You okay?" she asked me, putting her hand on the back of my head.

"Not really," I admitted, forcing a smile on my face. "You didn't have to get into this. I hate to say it, but she could drop your reputation on the spot."

She merely laughed, acting as if it was the most ridiculous thing she's heard of in her entire life. "I know her better than you think. She won't do anything."

She crossed over, strutting towards the back door, where shooting was at. I looked down at my arm, which had my nail marks engraved in them. I caressed it with my thumb. If I wasn't conscious about my makeup, I would have been bawling in my own tears. At that point in time, I felt so lost. I had never come across a situation so downhearted in my life. But the worst part wasn't that I'd be hurting a friend. Hell, it didn't even have to do with Amanda winning. It was the fact that I realized why I was so defending, why I was twice as emotional, and why I was suddenly such a romantic.

My feelings for Ian had grown massive. The simplest of looks from him gave me mind-blowing queasiness. His smile, the way he was so optimistic about life, everything good in him was what attracted me to him in the first place. I was so grateful to have him as a friend, but I wanted more because—

"I love him," I muttered to myself. It finally dawned on me. But in the end, I couldn't have him. I would never have him. He was going to get married and I'd have to let him go.

And that was the part I despised the most.

* * *

**A/N:** this took forever to get typed up and updated, and i'm sorry for that. i've had bad writers block and normally watching ezria or the pair i'm writing about brings me out of that but it didn't work this time, so i pushed myself all day to get this chapter completed for you guys. thank you for the reviews and i hope you continue to keep it up!


	11. Four Letter Word

I observed the beautiful evening sky, watching as it split in half and formed colors such as maroon, orange, and lavender, which danced around the clouds. My feet dangled from the rooftop of the set building, about fifty dozen feet separating my petite body from the ground. I had no intention of jumping and splitting my head open, but nearing such danger animated me. I looked away from the sunset and down to where the parking lot resided. The cars looked like the size of caterpillars — different colored caterpillars, to be exact.

Days passed since Amanda's threat. I hadn't said a word to anyone about the situation. Not to Troian, not to Ian, not even to Shay. I'd conceal this secret like my entire life depended on it, and for that to happen, I had to stay away from Ian. The decision was challenging to make, but when I came home that day to see her weeping in her pillow, I knew I'd be classified as a devil for being the person to expose her. I couldn't do it, I _wouldn't_.

I kept my distance from Ian without making my intentions blatantly apparent. I enjoyed my time with him on set so it'd seem like nothing was wrong, and I'd decline his invites with excuses. I had my album to keep me busy, and more importantly, to cerebrate. I had no one to talk to. Speaking through my music was the only way I could express myself and write about him.

A breeze picked up, whipping me in the face and almost sending me back to the concrete ground behind me. It was a much smaller fall than from ahead of me, but hazardous nonetheless. I brushed back flyaway strands of hair from my face and tucked them behind my ear securely. I began humming one of my songs, looking back up at the sunset, which gradually changed a darker color to match the upcoming nightfall.

"Don't you know, I want you with me," I sang, "and it ain't just 'cause I'm tipsy."

She won. Amanda won. I hated saying it. I could barely say it all, more so because it made me sick to my stomach. But the truth was looking at me in the face. Evil prevailed this time, and she used my humanity as my weakness.

"You're not going to jump, right?"

I looked back, almost losing my stance on the edge at the sight of Ian closing the rooftop door behind him and approaching me. He slipped his hands in his jean pocket, keeping his gaze on me.

"No," I answered, almost stuttering in the process. "Just sitting."

I tore my eyes from him and back at the sky, where the moon was suddenly visible and there was a maximum of twenty minutes before darkness would engulf us and our shadows. It was beyond breathtaking, much like Ian. The difference was I could pour out my soul for my love of sunsets.

"Can I join you?" he asked, keeping an approximate distance away from me. Of course, I wanted him to join me. I wanted him to sit next to me, talk about life, share a joke with me. I wanted to tell him how I felt about him, I wanted to entangle my body with his and borrow a kiss. But I couldn't.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I shrugged, avoiding his imminent fixed stare.

"So... do you want me to go?"

"Not really."

I falsified my affinity of the air, looking around; looking anywhere aside from him. I knew he'd suspect something at that point, but what else was there for me to do? His girlfriend had paparazzi as friends and they were doubtlessly taking candids of us from the parking lot, more than prepared to cruise over to her place and hand over information in hopes of getting a chunk of her fortune. I wasn't going to risk it. I writhed at the thought of seeing Troian's name in the headlines, but I had to keep it in mind when I was around Ian, for my impulses weren't controllable when I was with him. They were unmanageable, even for me.

I shuddered when I felt his firm hand encircle my arm serenely.

"What's going on?" he asked, almost whispering. "Did I do something wrong?"

At those words, a pang of stigma and guilt hit me severely. I had two choices I could say, and either wouldn't work well for me. For one, I could tell him that he didn't do anything and make him a liability to my friend's downfall. On the other hand, I could tell him he did do something, which would force him to leave.

I closed my eyes and bit my tongue, attempting to compel my imminent tears away. When my eyelids fluttered open, I knew it was too late. They had escaped and were rushing down my face. I muttered a curse word under my breath and ferociously attacked my cheeks with the back of my hands to reduce the flow, but it didn't matter anymore. He had seen me cry. It might have been meaningless to someone that wasn't me, but my pride was held by my lack of emotion.

"Hey," he breathed, "hey, what is it? What's wrong?" He raised his hand to my cheek to wipe something away, but I instinctively swatted at him, almost losing my balance from the ledge in the process. My heart pounded faster than before, but I wasn't going to get off. He steadied me, slithering his arms around my waist from behind and bringing me into the heat and protection of his body. We sat for a while, the only sounds being heard were my half-muted sobs and the occasional buzzes from traffic in the distance.

"Whatever it is, I can help," he said, more pleadingly than advantageously, as if he owed me. I could feel the heat of his breath against my ear, nearing my neck as he furrowed his chin within. Whether it was on purpose or not, he was being completely irresistible. If I hadn't been thinking about Amanda — a real mood-killer — there's a chance I would have forgotten about my deal.

"You can't help." I pulled his hands away from my waist and gave him a nudge to send him back.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you don't love me!" I exclaimed impulsively, turning my head to show him how serious this path was from my eyes. His tensed face softened a bit, but the startled look remained planted in his features.

"Who says I don't love you?" he asked in a demanding tone.

"But you don't love me the way I love you."

For a second, I could have sworn that time had stopped, just like the beating of my heart. The sounds of the blaring cars ceased to exist. My chest heaved higher than mountains and lower than the plates of the earth. The only thing that mattered was Ian and his speculation. How I managed to let that slip out, I had no clue. But it powered me enough to repeat what I said before — only more precisely.

"I love you, Ian."

One of my legs swung over the ledge so my feet weren't dangling from the ledge anymore, only straddling it and using my hands on the brick rim to support myself. I had to get a good look at him, and I almost scared myself from doing so. Nothing besides a couple of centimeters separated us. He reached for my hand, clutching it gently with two of his as a consoling smile crossed his face. He appeared to be gratified, unlike his tense condition prior to my confession. His chin was trembling, just like mine was.

"I—"

I heard a creak, followed by the sound of a slamming door. From behind Ian's shoulder, I could see a raging fiancee marching to take her utmost darkest steps she could possibly take. Before I knew it, I saw my fate suspend when she zoomed towards me, the deathly fire in her eyes blazing red, and used all of her strength to push me off the ledge of the rooftop.

* * *

**A/N:** okay, don't kill me for this cliffhanger (no pun intended). I had just figured i haven't done one in a long time and i wanted to bring that back because why not? i'm just going to leave it here and let you guys wonder what'll happen next. this is a really short chapter and i'm sorry, the next ones will be much much longer, i _promise_. for the shay/amanda questions and comments, you will definitely learn about their backstory in due time. there's just a lot of drama that i'm planning to add before that comes up, so watch out for that history in the later chapters. heads up, i'll probably either update really soon aka tomorrow or i won't be updating until this weekend because i'll be at small vacation thing with my friend for a few days. sorry this is a really long author's note omg ok bye for now


	12. Lonely Souls

What happened was a massive blur. I flipped around, frantically trying to find a pit to support my foot on so I could drag myself back up on the roof. I had a major panic attack within the moment. I felt as if no one could hear my cries and pleas of help. If Ian hadn't held onto me, I would have had to share a hospital room with Janel - or even worse, died.

Ian hoisted me up, despite Amanda's yells of disapproval. I held onto him for dear life, scared of what would happen if I moved my finger merely a centimeter. I didn't bother letting go of him afterwards. I shook violently in fear, keeping my hands looped around his waist. He clutched me like a prized possession, and I felt safe, but still far from ease.

"What the hell was that?" Ian roared, tightening his hold on me, "do you want to go to jail? There are cameras everywhere, Amanda!"

"I don't give a crap," I heard her screech. She wasn't getting her way, and the princess always wanted her way. "That slut is trying to steal you away from me. I won't allow it. I won't."

"She's not a sl— _that word_," he defended, "it doesn't even give you the right to attack her. You almost killed her!"

I buried my face deeper into his chest, feeling a swarm of tears flood my eyes. I squeezed them tight. Incapable of breathing normally, I slapped my palm against my mouth and took oxygen through my nostrils, but there was no difference. Muffled sobs took control over me. "Lucy, look at me!" Ian urged, lifting me from his grasp and searching my face. "Shh, shh. You're okay. You're fine now."

Was I? Was I really safe? Cameras followed my every move, threatening to expose me. When I let my guard down, I'd get attacked. So, what made me so sure I was safe when I was seconds away from death? The answer was simple to say, but complicated to grasp. I couldn't be safe at mind because I wasn't safe in the environment I was in.

"Did Ian tell you, Lucy?" Amanda questioned, placing her hands on her hips. I turned my head to look at her, my usual tough demeanor now let down. I didn't have the energy to fight or to argue. I was still trembling preposterously.

"Tell me what?" I hesitated coarsely. A sickly smile crossed her face. To know she had information lit up her entire face, and it was quite sorrowful, to say the least.

"Him and I set the date last night," she said proudly, twirling her giant, beach curls around her finger. "We're getting married in less than two weeks. Twelve days, to be exact."

For a brief moment, I didn't believe her. Something about it seemed too illusory, even if that was the word that could be used to describe everything she says and does. I looked up to Ian to see what he'd say about her false statement, but instead, I saw his eyes wander to the floor. Guilt shone thoroughly in everything about him, from his body language to his hazel eyes. I would never be able to explain the extent of my discontentment. Thereupon, I was forced to believe that everything Ian said, or would say, was a lie.

"Your time with him is _over_," Amanda outboasted, "so stop trying."

"Luc—"

"No," I cut Ian off, "no. It's okay."

But that was a lie. Nothing about the situation was okay. I professed my love to him, only to almost be pushed off a rooftop to my death and spat at by his fiancee. In one way, I could have blamed it all on him and made him feel like he was the person to generate my downfall by getting together with Amanda, but all signs pointed to me being at fault. I couldn't keep my emotions intact for another year or so, just until the show was completed and we'd go our separate ways. I wasn't able to point a finger at anyone but myself.

I pushed myself up from the floor, almost tripping over my leg in the process. I was blinded by the pool of tears in my eyes, but promptly after, they began to disassemble from my face and to my shirt. I took a final look at Ian, who was still crouched on the ground and staring at the floor in disgrace, and Amanda, who had an elated expression on her face.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say to me?" she questioned, shifting her weight onto her other leg and tilting her head. Our eyes locked, but the difference between our gazes was that she had a reveling flare in her eyes, whereas mine was drained of life and color.

"You won," I said. I had no time to watch her facial appearance, for I was already out the door. The way my legs took me down the stairs reminded me of the way I skimmed down Ian's stairs at his house that night I kissed him. Everything ached. My head throbbed so hard, I felt like my brain was going to leap out of my head and find a new owner, preferably one that didn't have a good brain, like Amanda. As soon as I saw the first floor door, I tripped on the fourth to last stair and tumbled to the floor in a messy heap. I could feel myself slipping and crying harder — not because of falling and managing to hurt every last bone in my body, but because of the indignity.

Picking myself up from the floor, I fought to reach the doorknob and open it, breathing in the night air and letting it cascade into my lungs.

"I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot," I cried, staggering across the road to the parking lot, "I'm so stupid."

My breath began to minimize, which meant my air flow was reducing by the second. I slipped again, but this time, someone was there to break my fall. Someone's voice called out for me, but it was distinct. My vision became disorientated, but this time, it wasn't because of the nonstop flow of tears. It was more of a darkness rather than wetness. Before I could acknowledge it, I slid into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

I awoke with nothing at mind. I was far from serenity, but farther from Ian and the fiancee drama. Something in my vision made everything appear dream-esque, but that went away after a few minutes. I distinguished a high ceiling — _my_ high ceiling. I was in my room. I pushed myself up with the support of my arm, watching as an unnoticed cloth fell from my forehead into my lap. My hands reached out for it, but what really caught me off guard was how wet and cold it was. Had I been sweating that much?

I noticed my fingers and the nonexistent shaking. The trembling went away, as well as my other minor symptoms. I touched the back of my neck and noticed it resembled my cloth — cold and sweaty. I seemed to be stripped of my clothes. Nothing was left except for my bra and underwear. A thin sheet layed on top of me. I was hot and stuffy, but for an odd reason, my skin was as cold as ice. I could hear water running from another room.

"Troian?" I called out as loud as I could. Abruptly, the sound of rushing water paused and in moments came a wide-eyed Troian, putting the back of her hand against my forehead and feeling my skin.

"Do you feel okay?" she asked me concernedly, finally holding my clammy hands in her hands and massaging them gently. "I was so worried when he came in and had you in his arms..."

"Who?" I cut her off, "who brought me here?"

"Brant," she replied immediately, but without the usual look of disgust or disapproval. "He told me he saw you coming out set and you fainted. Why were you there? We didn't have work yesterday. It was a Saturday."

I shrugged, pretending like it was a innocuous choice. And it truly was... before things got out of hand. I looked down at the cloth, playing with the hems with my thumbs. I could feel her staring, but I didn't want to go back and relive yesterday. I just wanted to go out to the studio and sing until my throat ached. I grabbed the end of my sheet and pulled it off of me, walking out into the bathroom and locking the door behind me. My feet took me to the front of the sink, where I could see my pale reflection from within the mirror. It was a broken version of myself — no makeup, hair in a wild tame around my scalp and my shoulders, along with my observable sunken, tenebrous eyes. Any sign of effulgence was gone.

I grabbed my toothbrush from off the rack, put toothpaste on it, and scrubbed my teeth intensively. All I could think about was Ian. Was that the side effects of love? Thinking about him every second of every minute of every hour of every day? Because if it was, all signs of getting over him was out of the picture. I couldn't believe he'd be married in eleven days. There was no way I'd be able to do anything about it. I'd bet that all the planning and agenda wouldn't be abandoned as long as Amanda was a part of it all. She'd eat a thousand calorie meal before letting me win Ian over. Did she even know what love was besides the love she had for herself, her money, and her popularity?

I rinsed my mouth out and splashed a handful of cold water against the surface of my face, feeling it roll down my neck and down the drain. I gripped the ends of the sink until my knuckles went white in numbness. My chest heaved up and down, trying to catch my breath, which sped up after I held back from taking in oxygen. I looked at my reflection once again. Again, I was forced to think about what it was I didn't have that Amanda had. I hated comparing myself to other people, especially ones I knew I couldn't compete with. What did I have to do to outshine her? She was drop dead gorgeous, she had heaps of cash, and she was the biggest journalist there was in the entire world — and nothing about that was an exaggeration. What did I have? I wasn't pretty, I had enough cash to support myself and my family back in Tennessee, and my popularity was only an extension to the show.

I traveled to my tub and opened the hot water all the way. I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the ground, along with my underwear, and stared at the running water until it filled up to the top. Shutting it off, I put both feet into the water before pulling my entire body under the water, including my head.

—**Last Summer**

"Lucy?"

My eyes shot open, which were crimson in color. A smiling Ian huddled in front of me, waving a bag in his hand. "I brought dinner from this amazing Korean deli. Come eat."

He outstretched his arm for me to accept, but my eyes were still focused on his smile. I hadn't seen him in such high spirits in weeks, and to see him like that brought a gigantic grin onto my face. I, who would normally have fallen back asleep after being awoken, acquired a grip on his muscular arms and pulled myself up from the couch. He led me into his kitchen and started to talk about his day.

"I went to my therapist today," he added on after finishing his topic about the perfect parking spot he earned, "and we made really good progress today."

"Really?" I smiled as I went to grab a couple plates as well as some silverware before setting it all down on the table and taking my seat across from him, "can I ask what you guys talked about?"

He nodded, as if he was expecting me to ask the question. "We talked about my mom. Openly. We never really touched that topic in this way. She told me that instead of thinking that she's gone, think about everything lucky that's happened to you and know that it happened because of her." He pulled out some plastic containers and opened them all up. "We don't need plates. Just dig in."

I nodded, setting aside the plates on the chair to the left of me so that we'd have more room to set out things on the table. "I'm glad everything's going better. You know, you haven't smiled like this in a long time."

A look of accomplishment crossed his face. I could tell he was proud, and he should have been. It was amazing to get through what he did. He adored mother more than life and air itself, which was why it was such a shock to him when she passed away so suddenly. Sleepless nights for him and I resulted soon afterwards. He had close friends, but none had an emotional connection as strong as him and I, so I offered to stay with him as a person of support until he felt like he could be on his own again.

"Do you think you could stay one more day?" he asked modestly. "We can eat popcorn and watch a movie. I haven't watched a movie in so long."

I looked at my watch, contemplating whether I could or not. It was six in the evening and I had promised some new acquaintances I'd go have a late dinner with them, but I decided Ian's wellbeing was much more important.

"Of course," I complied before picking up my fork and finding an entree to dive into.

**Present Day**—

The moment my head bobbed up from the surface, I gasped for air, choking up bundles of bathing water. I didn't notice how extended my time was in the water, but it was too long for my lungs. I was too caught up in my flashback and I vowed not to let that happen again.

"Lucy? Are you okay? Luce?" I heard Troian's intense hollers from the other side of the door. I locked it so she couldn't get in, but I didn't hear a jingle, so I knew she wasn't trying to walk in either.

"I'm fine," I told her, which stopped her alarming calls. I stepped out of the tub, letting out an occasional cough. My towel hung around the curtain tube. I grabbed it and dried my hair, wrapping it around my body soon after instead of using the robe I forgot to bring in. Recollections of my legs swinging from the rooftop as I struggled to find a ledge surfaced my mind, and it was difficult to push them away, but I did it. I didn't want to contemplate anything anymore. I just wanted to leave it as it was for the time being.

Something about the house was suffocating. I didn't know why, but all I knew was that I had to go. I found a new bra, as well as underwear, and pulled a classy romper above. I didn't feel like accessorizing, but sunglasses were mandatory. If Amanda's paparazzi planned to follow me around, I refused to show her how mentally defeated I really was.

"I'll be back," I told Troian, grabbing my keys off of the counter top and gliding to the door. Minutes later, I found myself at the Stop-'N-Go gas station on the outskirts of downtown Los Angeles, one of the bigger stations around the area. I needed to fill up my gas before setting off to the mall and shopped until my legs ached from roaming around. I headed inside to find some chips to munch on. My cravings were getting the best of me, even though I learned how to stay away from junk food.

I wandered languidly into the chips section, searching for a bag like it was the most substantial decision of my life. I was pickier than most people.

A familiar top of the head popped out to me from the other side of the aisle. My heart raced as I stared at the curly, dark mess of hair. I haltingly made my way around to the other aisle and tapped his shoulder. There he was, gazing back at me with his beautiful, blue eyes.

"Hi, Ian," I greeted shyly. He didn't reply back. He only stared at me as if he had no idea who I was. Did I look like a different person without makeup? Was there something disgusting on my face? I cleared my throat, starting something to talk about. "About last night—"

"No," he interrupted, looking away from me and back at the stacks on the rows. "I don't want to talk about that."

His peculiar behavior intrigued me. I itched a scratch on my temples before I let my hands drop to my sides awkwardly. What else was I suppose to say? I wanted to thank him, but he didn't want to bring it up. I noticed he was looking at pregnancy tests in confusion... or was he looking at the condoms right above?

"Are you guys... _you know_," I inquired curiously, "having sex?"

I didn't know where that came from. I was never one to say something so blunt aloud, but it happened. "I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry."

He continued to look at the row before grabbing a pack of condoms. I wasn't comfortable with that, but it was a lot better than the tests. To know that they experienced an intimacy on that level had me low-spirited again, however I wouldn't let that bring me down just yet. He passed me into the aisle in the back, where the clear glassed fridge was located, as well as an assortment of different liquid drinks. I followed him back wretchedly, thinking of something else to say. The tension was thick enough to be sliced with a knife. I didn't understand why.

"Are you mad at me, Ian?" I questioned him. His reaction caught me offguard.

"Would you just leave me alone?" he spat loudly, "go do whatever you were going to do. I know you didn't come here to talk to me, so leave."

For a second, I thought he was only kidding. I waited for his sheepish smile to surface and tell me he was only kidding and wrap his around me. Nothing content materialized. My neutral position fell rapidly. My heart was beating fast — and this time, it wasn't because I was exultant, it was because I was _scared_.

"Ian..."

"Lucy," he said back, glaring at me. His eyes were distant, practically cold. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you again. Get over whatever we had because it's never going to happen."

He picked up a Pepsi can and strode off, leaving me standing alone to question if that really happened or not.

* * *

**SNEAK PEEK:**

"_Wait_," Patrick's rough voice slurred, struggling to grasp a balanced state behind his drunkenness. He took grasp of my arm, squeezing it with all his might. I screeched in pain, swinging at his face instinctively with my fist. The blow wasn't hard, but it was enough for his grip on me to loosen up. I felt an arm hug my waist, and just when I was ready to take another defense strike, I noticed it was Brant holding me back defensively.

"Hey," he yelled over the loud club music, "don't touch her!"

Before we could leave, Patrick pulled out something from his pocket, which took me moments to recognize. But when I saw the pocket sized gun in his hand, my eyes went wide.

"Run!" I screamed from the top of my lungs, letting my legs push through the crowds of people.

* * *

**A/N:** hey, guys! my mini vacation went amazing, and it's just what i needed for more inspiration to write this up. sorry i couldn't write it sooner, i just got caught up with other errands on thursday. luckily, i've graduated! so more writing and faster updates should happen as long as i know you guys are interested in this! the reactions to the last chapter made me so giddy, i couldn't even, hahaha. thank you so so much! i already have the wedding chapters outlined and everything. believe me when i say it's going to be action-filled and amazing. leave in some _reviews_ and tell me why you think ian's suddenly so cold towards lucy or give me _compliments_ or even _constructive criticism._ see ya'll next time :)


	13. Mad Love

I had never dreaded waking up on a Monday so much. I didn't want to get up from out of my bed for so many reasons, the range of them extending from insignificant to critical. For one, the bed was warm and toasty, and the air conditioning in the house made it seem like the equivalent of living in Antarctica. The habit of being sweaty when having unsettling nightmares began to settle in me and I was far from okay with that. Luckily, Troian slept in the guest room so she wouldn't think that the bed wasn't dry for another reason.

After a quick change of the bed sheets, I arranged the rest of my bed, took a shower, and brushed my teeth. It took me longer than usual, considering I took up a habit of staring in the mirror. Another exertion I had to deal with was my legs. The day before, I ran for a ridiculous amount of time at the gym, which caused my legs to grow sore. But anything that would distract me from Ian, I'd do without hesitation.

Sitting on my bed once again, I decided I'd check out my social media links while my hair air dried. A piece of paper remained on top of the laptop, and if I didn't get a good look at the "READ NOW" phrase written on the front, I would have never opened it. I recognized Troian's messy cursive handwriting immediately.

_Look up your name on Google News._

I asked no questions, mostly because Troian wasn't around to pester, and pressed on an internet browser, heading straight to the site she wanted me to go to. It wasn't recommended to look yourself up online for many reasons, but it must have been important if she wrote it for me. I scrolled down, my eyes taking over the new headlines. Just as that happened, my phone rang from my back pocket. I continued scanning a few more captions before pressing on an article to read fully. When the ringing continued, I pulled it out and pressed talk, only because I was thoroughly annoyed of the unceasing ringing.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Lucy," spoke a gruff voice from the other side of the line. I recognized the voice immediately — my publicist, Mario.

"Mar!" I proclaimed, nothing delightful about my tone, "did you see—"

"Yes, yes," he cut me off short, "I saw."

"I..." My words were no longer able to escape my lips. Anything I tried to say, I'd choke up. My eyes scanned the article. At the top, it read: 'America's Queen against America's Sweetheart?' My heart raced, reading the first paragraph.

"Amanda Haynes, who is known for her celebrity duels over the internet, might just be switching over to real life duels. According to our source, Pretty Little Liars' star Lucy Hale has been secretly infatuated with her on-screen love and costar _Ian Harding_, who just so happens to be Amanda's fiancee... _oh my god_, Mario!"

"I know, I know," he said dryly, "and I'm not going to ask you if any of this is true or not, but what I ask is that you deny everything on Friday because I've set up an interview for you to clear everything up _and_ to promote your album."

I let out an inaudible sigh, my free hand slapped against my thumping chest. For all I knew, this 'source' could have been one of Amanda's minions who was asked by the she-devil to spill this out as a safety net in the event that Ian would possibly want to leave her for me, even though there was no chance of that now. If that happened, the wagging fingers would be pointed at me, not her. The move was smart. Evil, but smart.

"Okay," I agreed, "thank you."

"That's what I'm here for, right?" he chuckled, "I'll email you the address and the details for the interview, but until then, I'm warning you — _stay out of trouble_. That means staying out of magazines' ears unless it has something to do with the show or the music."

The command seemed easy enough, but then again, my love life was supposed to be easy as well. Now, I didn't have one.

"Anything else?" I questioned, flipping off my computer and grabbing my bag from off the nightstand.

"Uh, don't post anything with Ian for a while," he advised, "no pictures, tweets, nothin' like that."

_That wouldn't happen even if I wanted it to_, I thought to myself. I went along with it, and with that, our conference ended. I crumpled up the note Troian left me and threw it in the wastebasket, walking to the front door soon after. I was so consumed in my thoughts which almost caused me to trip on the stairs. Luckily, the railing saved me. It was then that I noticed I had a thing for tripping and that my clumsiness was spiraling out of control. Ian may have had to save me the first time I was falling, but I knew he wasn't going to catch me anymore.

* * *

My pen drummed against the notepad that resided on my lap. Normally, someone wouldn't find comfort in writing song lyrics in the sidelines of a main lobby at their workplace, but I did. Besides my hometown, it was where I felt most comfortable, as odd as that seemed. I had a sense of serenity at mind with my castmates - my second family.

Surprisingly, I was a loss for words. Phrases normally flowed onto the notepad, but I was having a hard time with it, and I assumed it was because Ian was lingering around with Keegan and Troian on the couch far from the stool I sat on. He looked so happy, it almost pained me. Was I a burden to him?

I gasped aloud, noticing that could be a lyric. I jotted it down intensely, making sure they looked like scribbles instead of song lyrics. I read over the sentences, seeing which ones I could put together to create a verse.

"I'm fumblin' over the words, I don't feel a bit like me these days," I sung to myself before a wide grin surfaced my face. The combination excited me, but remembering who I wrote them for faltered my look. I hummed the tune, thinking about how Mikey, my songwriter guide, would be praising me for putting an entire song together without his help.

I glanced up at Ian, who seemed to be staring at me but looked away as soon as our eyes locked on each others. A pang of despondency hit me right in the gut, my stomach suddenly became queasy. I finally understood how Ian felt when I ignored him. The difference was that I didn't have the courage to approach him and ask him what I needed to say or do to go back to normal. What did I do in the first place?

I looked around, seeing crew and cast scattered around and lounging in the lobby. A set that intrigued me the most was Shay and Brant. They were standing on the opposite wall from where I was at, concentration engraved in their features. They seemed to be talking about something intense, which was rare for them. Teasing was all the two biggest flirts on set did with each other.

My interest got the best from me. I stood up from my stool and shoved my notepad in my bag before zipping and slinging it over my shoulder. I approached them, passing Ian on the way. I did my best not to look at him but I could see from the corner of my eye that it didn't matter if I stared right at him or stared at the stars — he wasn't paying any mind to me.

"Hey," I nodded to the duo. I could tell their conversation took an abrupt stop by the way they looked at me with their eyes widened and dopey smiles.

"Hi!" Shay said, a little too enthusiastically. Brant gave me a small wave, briefly glancing at Shay and looking back at me. I gave them a look, tilting my head.

"What's going on?" I asked, adjusting the strap of my bag and clutching it tighter.

"Talking about you and lover boy," Noel admitted, "and how he isn't acting so _lovey_ these days."

"Brant!" Shay exclaimed, nudging his chest. "I thought you said we weren't going to tell anyone!"

"I didn't tell her about the plan," he pointed out, his face freezing right after. Shay let out a sigh and stomped her feet lightly, crossing her arms over her chest. It was supposed to be a moment where I'd pester them about a plan, but the way it was revealed to me was amusing. Brant could be clueless at times and I knew that very well.

"A plan?" I repeated, the entertained smile playing against the corners of my lips.

"To ruin the wedding," confessed Shay, who lowered her voice. I watched her intently, waiting for her to release one of her big smiles and tell me she was only kidding. I gasped tardily when I realized she wasn't kidding in the slightest.

"Are you serious?" I questioned rhetorically, my mouth agape. "Why?"

"Haven't you noticed how off Ian's been these days?" she asked. "I think it has something to do with Amanda. Brant said that Ian didn't want to get married so fast and suddenly they're going to exchange rings and walk down that aisle together in ten days and be the happiest couple ever? I don't freakin' think so."

I understood what she meant. In fact, I thought I was the only one who noticed these changes. He was distancing himself from people, becoming more weary, and his terrible attitude was appalling.

"I totally agree," I nodded, "it's understandable to be stressed out about planning the biggest day of your life, but aren't you supposed to be happy to know you're going to seal the knot?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Shay acknowledged, "and I don't think men have to set out every single detail, especially if it's _Amanda Haynes_'s wedding. That girl is so controlling, it's ridiculous. I bet Ian isn't even going to pick out his own suit. He'll just have to go along with what she says.

I wanted to ask her how she was connected to Amanda. The way she talked about her compelled me to inquire, but was it any of my business? I opened my mouth to say something, but Brant interfered.

"Ladies, let's not jump from a plan to gossiping," he said. "Are you in, Lucy Goose? You wanna help us stop a wedding?"

There was no need to contemplate it. I was on board. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but _yes._ I'll help."  


The two adults smiled in unison, looking back at each other in triumph.

"Oh, also," Brant started, "are you coming to Opera with us?"

"Uh..." I didn't know if I was going to be busy or not. Opera was an exclusive nightclub many known people went to, from celebrities to producers to all in the between. The cast had an idea to bring everyone together and go have a fun night out, but knowing Amanda, she'd be there blending in. Bumping into her was the last thing that I wanted to do.

"I don't know," I shrugged, "I might be busy."

"Busy doing what?" Shay asked, "you _have_ to go."

I chuckled at her insistent urging and finally agreed to the offer. I heard Shay, Troian, Sasha, and myself being called from overhead, along with a set number, which was our cue that we were needed. Shay and I departed after a final goodbye from Brant, our arms linked together.

* * *

I took a swig of my Virgin Merry Mimosas as I peered around the nightclub, seeing a few celebrities I recognized. The loud music pumped, in sync with my beating heart. I was waiting for Shay and Brant where they told me to, in the second to last booth in the Lava section. I had been waiting and waiting, but at least an hour had passed and I was growing uncomfortable with the couple in the booth in front of me who were making out and presumably doing other things they believed no one would see.

My eyes finally glued down to the screen of my phone, which was in my gallery of photos, one picture standing out to me in particular. I hesitantly tapped on it. Ian and I popped up, our big smiles in harmony. We both had chocolate ice cream mustaches and seemed to be proud of it. I remembered that day, even if it was three years ago. How could I not? It was the first time Ian and I had spent an entire day together with no one else around. It was when our friendship was solely innocent, and more importantly, when my feelings for him grew larger. It was easier to cover up how I felt back then.

My fingers went to the home button and back to my contacts, where I scrolled down to Ian's name. I pressed the text button and typed in a risky message I knew I'd need guts to send.

_Just do it_, I thought to myself. _Press send._

Unexpectedly, I did. I let out a gasp at my sudden actions, but quickly looked around to make sure no one saw me. Everyone was minding their own business; either dancing or chatting with people or lurking around. I stared down at my text, reading over the question again and again until I was sick of it.

_Can we talk?_

I bit my lower lip and continued to gape at it, waiting for a reply. I was determined to wait for him to say something back, but a tap on my shoulder brought me out of Ian's world and into reality. I expected it to be Brant or Shay, so I stood up immediately to greet them.

"Hey—" I froze in mid greeting. Patrick, Troian's ex and abuser, towered in front of me. He was six feet at the least, therefore being in possession of a very menacing build. He reeked of heavy cologne that was palpably covering up sweat with a dash of alcohol. His buttoned up shirt was no longer buttoned.

"Where's Troian?" he growled demonically.

"I-I don't know," I replied honestly, staggering backwards.

"You don't know?" he repeated, a bone-chilling smirk crossing his face. He took a step towards me, and another one.

"Get away from me, Rick," I warned, thinking about ways to defend myself. I couldn't use pepper spray because the one I normally carried around was in my old purse. I didn't think the tricks I learned for Pretty Little Liars as my character would work too well either. There was one thing I could think of doing — to dip past him and run. I took an opportunity and scurried around him.

"_Wait_," Patrick's rough voice slurred, struggling to grasp a balanced state behind his drunkenness. He took grasp of my arm, squeezing it with all his might. I screeched in pain, swinging at his face instinctively with my fist. The blow wasn't hard, but it was enough for his grip on me to loosen up. I felt an arm hug my waist, and just when I was ready to take another defense strike, I noticed it was Brant holding me back defensively.

"Hey," he yelled over the loud club music, "don't touch her!"

Before we could leave, Patrick pulled out something from his pocket, which took me moments to recognize. But when I saw the pocket sized gun in his hand, my eyes went wide.

"Run!" I screamed from the top of my lungs, letting my legs push me through the crowds of people. I waited to hear the bangs of a gunshot and the gasps of people followed by a stampede, but nothing came.

I found myself in front of the exits, but I couldn't leave without Brant. Out of nowhere, a mob of flashing lights blinded my eyes. A collective number of people saying my name with a followup of questions gave me enough evidence to realize it was the paparazzi. Their flash photography was enough to drive me insane.

"Miss Hale, could you please identify the male that was threatening you?"

"Lucy! Over here, Lucy!"

"Lucy Hale, could you talk to us about—"

"Hey," I heard Brant's voice whisper in my ear as he dragged me away from the group and out the door, where they proceeded to follow us. I placed my hand in front of my eyes to shield them from the flashes, using Brant's shoulder as a guide so I wouldn't fall flat on my face. Remembering that morning and how I almost tripped made my grip tighten even more.

Once we got in my car, I sped off as fast as I could.

"Oh my god, I don't... what just happened?" I murmured, struggling to focus on the road. The last ten minutes had been a giant messy blur. One moment, I was texting Ian to see if he would talk to me and the next and the next I was striving to get out of the photographers' ways. I was longing for Ian to embrace me and whisper comforting things in my ear and hold me until I fell asleep. That was what he did when we were friends and bad days caught up to me. I couldn't count the amount of days I'd wake up and find myself laying on his chest.

"Are you okay?" Brant asked me.

"Just a little shaken up," I replied. I hadn't even noticed how jittery my hands were until I tried gripping the steering wheel and it _still_ managed to shake.

Minutes later, we sat across from each other in booths at a fast food outlet. Brant seemed to be munching down his burger fast but I hadn't even unwrapped mine yet. I was still flustered from the outcome of events that managed to unravel. My phone was clutched in my hands, waiting to feel the buzzing vibration that indicated I had a text, possibly from Ian. Nothing awaited me.

"Eat," Brant advised, putting down his half eaten double stacked burger and picking mine up to unravel the wrapper. He set it back down before taking a slurp of his coke.

"I'm not hungry," I said, shaking my head and returning to my thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?" he inquired. "Ian?"

My eyes met with his and I could tell he confirmed it by my look. He took out his phone and stated, "let's call him."

"He's not going to talk to me," I told him. I knew he wouldn't. He ignored my single text and made sure I was out of his sight.

"You never know until you try," he encouraged before putting the phone against his ear. I was supposed to feel excited, but instead I felt squeamish. What was he going to say to Ian? Would he really talk to me? All I wanted to do was hear him say my name and tell me he was mistaken for treating me like a banana peel on the side of a road.

"Hello?" Brant finally said. "Hey, Ian! What's going on? Nah, just here with.. Lucy."

He looked up at me after saying my name. I gave him a look but he shrugged in response. What was Ian saying? There was a fairly odd pause.

"Well, do you want to talk to her?" Brant asked, tapping on the table counter. That was it. That was finally when I'd get a chance to make things right and get back to normal. Another odd pause developed. I waited for him to hand me the phone. Instead, he hung up and put the phone on the counter. He gazed at me, eyes drowned in pity and sorrow.

"What? What'd he say?" I inspected. The way he examined me made me feel troubled. Panic arose in my chest and traveled to my throat. Everything began burning.

"He said he doesn't want to talk to you anymore."

* * *

**A/N**: Ahh, sorry for the lack of Lucian scenes, the only one being where Lucy passed Ian. i did try to put in as much references as i could, though! :) chapter 14 should be up next week if i get a satisfying amount of reviews. on a sidenote (and because a reviewer reminded me) brucy aka brant and lucy will NOT be endgame, i can guarantee you that. he's just that male friend she has, and he helps her get an insight into ian's mind.


	14. Trouble Ahead

"He did what?" Troian exclaimed, stopping her multitasking frenzy in under a second. I let her panicked words linger in the air, leisurely folding a graphic tee of mine and slipping it into the medium sized suitcase very silently, as if one small sound would cause Troian to erupt.

"Did I mention he had a gun and he almost shot us?" I blurted out, "that— that happened."

I knew it would have been in her best interest if I hadn't informed her of the latest events from four nights ago, but keeping it in for so long was absolutely killing me. She had the right to know, anyways. Patrick's outburst was driven by his drunkenness and his amplified thoughts of Troian, which I was sure she was quite familiar with.

At that thought, my eyes wandered towards her stomach. I tried to catch a glimpse only so she wouldn't catch me staring, and luckily, there was nothing to stare at. A bump hadn't even formed, with the exception of her early breakfast. There were no complaints about unfitting clothes. She appeared to be going back to her normal lifestyle, before the baby drama, but even I knew the case would be far from over. If she chose to take care of the child, that would be eighteen years of battling. Knowing Troian, it was a fight she was going to win.

My eyes shot up to her face. Her palm was pressed against her forehead, an exasperated motion she made that I knew too well.

"I'm really sorry," I said, wanting to reach out and clasp her shoulder to show her that everything was going to be okay.

"For what?" Troian questioned, finally dropping her arm to the side. We exchanged stares, both suffused with different emotions. I looked away before she could see the feeling of pity puncture my face.

"For this whole thing," I responded, "I couldn't think of a more kinder person than you, and then all of this happens."

I knew I was on the border of a detailed rant, but knowing where the line was and how I was close to stepping over it caused me to bite on my tongue to silence myself.

"If anything, _I _should be apologizing," Troian told her proceeding a long pause, "You've done so much for me and I—"

"No," I cut her off right away, "you have nothing to be sorry for, Troian."

"Can I at least thank you for what you did? Well, what you're _doing_."

I looked up at her, her amber-brown eyes still directed on mine. I had mistaken her last words with a tone of melancholy, but the look on her face was drowned in determination. It reminded me of her willpower. It reminded me how stepping around her stones would only hurt her. Her strength was all she had, and by treating her like an equal rather than a puppy with a broken leg, she'd grow mentally.

"Yes," I nodded, "you can."

She stepped up and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into her. I reciprocated the hug, squeezing my eyes tightly. If only she knew the extent of my admiration towards her.

After our long hug, we shed a few tears together and laughed it off. We were never emotional people, but the situations we had been put in made us that way. Well, Troian had been forced in her situation. I decided to cause my own doomed fate with Ian.

Just the thought of his name brought into the dumps. I began to fold the series of clothes that was clumped on my bed. Everything was going terribly wrong. The pieces were broken and not even super glue could mend them. It was hard to pretend not to be in love with someone that despised me, hated me. What else was I supposed to do? Get down on my knees and plead for forgiveness for a crime I had no clue I committed? My pride and dignity was much bigger than his hatred for me, that was for sure.

"Can I ask what happened after that gun incident?" she asked me curiously, "did he follow you or something?"

I shook my head in response. "The pap saw him come up to me, though. Mario almost killed me with his bare hands after he saw the headlines, 'cause he told me I couldn't get into the press and its mess, which is why I have, like, three interviews to go to today." I let out a sigh for emphasis, almost toppling over from my lost balance. "Brant got me out of that club before anything else could happen... don't give me that look, Troian!"

Judgement and amusement twinkled in her dark pupils at the sound of Brant's name. She gave me a knowing eye roll as she strolled around the bedside to grab the stacks of perfume and body sprays that belonged to her. I kept my eyes away from her as she shoved it in her brown suitcase, but the side glances coming her way weren't missed.

"I'm telling you, Luce," she said, "I've said it from the beginning and I'm saying it now: something's gonna happen between the two of you. You've been around him every single day since Monday. Ian's getting married, so that leaves you and him out the equation, which only leaves him."

I bit the insides of my cheek as hard as I could. A salty taste flooded my taste buds. Even the most oblivious person could decipher how far our chances were together. I still longed for him, even more if that was even possible.

"I—I'm so sorry, did I just say something?" Troian stopped apologetically. All signs of her amused look were washed away. Instead, a worried demeanor washed over her.

"No, no!" I exclaimed. She had no idea what was going on, which gave her the right to continue her harmless taunting. Maybe it was time to start being truthful to the person that was living in my house. I paused my packing and gave her my full concentration in hopes that she would do the same.

I started off with telling her about who Amanda truly was, how she took the shape of a gorgeous duchess but used her looks to manipulate everyone around her. I informed her about her history with me and how she humiliated me behind my back, in the midst of my previous cast mates. After telling her about my near kiss with Ian and how it was inconveniently intruded by Amanda, I explained the things about her occupation and how she used that to her benefit on the night she came over and drunken me up.

"That's where I recognized her," Troian nodded, propping her hand on her hip, "I've heard her name tons of times, but I've seen her face around way less. She looks shinier in person."

"It's from all the plastic," I said boorishly, earning a chuckle from her.

"So, she had you drunk as a prank, or what?" Troian asked. I looked down for a second, remembering the intentions of the she-devil. If I notified her of the sole reason why, chances were she'd be angry at me for not telling her. Noticing that I had absolutely no time to scrutinize my options, I blurted out the answer, figuring I'd deal with any consequences that would be thrown my way.

"She knew, somehow, that I was a talker when I get drunk. So, she used that to get a secret out of me and.. I'm so sorry, I— it was about you. And the... the baby. And now she's blackmailing me and..."

The color from Troian's face washed away. By the way she held an item in her hand tightly, I could tell she was stiffened. That's when I knew she'd be furious with me.

"Bitch."

My mouth went agape for a second. "I mean, I know what I did was terrible, but—"

"Oh god, not you Lucy," she corrected, shaking her head, "I mean Amanda. You didn't do anything on purpose. I know you'd take a bullet in the stomach before you'd tell anyone that while you're sober."

And boy, did she know it. I thought of myself as a loyal friend, until Amanda stripped me away from that title. Luckily, Troian's anger directed at the enemy as opposed to me. The sudden shock that rocked my body from her profanity was chilling down.

"What's the other side of the deal?" she inquired, closing the lid to her suitcase and sitting on top of it. I instinctively dropped a pair of shorts I was handling and made my way over to her, helping her with zipping it up.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, my voice shaking in the process.

"You said she's blackmailing you, right?" she repeated, "why? What does she want you to do?"

I pursed my lips, channeling my upcoming rage towards my strength as I strenuously zipped the suitcase. I balked on saying it. It was finally one of the easier things for Troian to hear, but harder for me to say. It was the start of the strained relationship amongst Ian and I.

"She wants me to stay away from Ian," I muttered, barely audible enough for her to hear. Determining by her bewildered expression, I knew I wouldn't have to repeat my words. She had heard me.

"Is that why you and Ian haven't been talking?" she finally put two and two together. "I thought you guys were trying some hard-to-get game or something! Why didn't you tell me all of this? When did this happen?"

I lost track of the barrage of questions, so I replied to one, the last one specifically. "Well, the blackmailing happened last Friday, and—"

"A _week_ ago?" Troian halted me. "God, Luce."

"I'm sorry!" I apologized meaningfully as I took one last push to close the case, "it's just been a stressful past month, and with the renewed show and my music and the promotions, I've barely had any time to just sit down like this and talk to you."

"Technically, we're not sitting down and talking," she wagged her finger as her feet and the floor met each other once more with a soft thud, "we're packing for the big day."

I rose my eyebrows for the shortest interval of time, disallowing my mourning expression to come into sight. We were packing for doomsday, also known as the wedding week of Amanda and Ian. Everyone on the cast of Pretty Little Liars, along with few producers and directors, were invited to go. A card with a spray of perfume was plastered in everyone's boxes — everyone's except for mine, making it clear that I wasn't welcomed in the least. After much debating with Troian, Shay, Brant, Ashley, and Keegan, they decided they'd snuggle me in or use one of their 'plus one' admissions for me. I didn't want to watch him walk down that aisle in fear of my impulsive behavior, which had been displayed in the past several days, but Shay and Brant claimed they had it all figured out. The plan was to be set in motion on day one.

We were going to Columbia Rose, an estate which was rumored to be so giant it had its own zip code, and it was all owned by Amanda. She had payed the expenses for all the food that would be brought in from elsewhere, and everyone invited could stay for a short while or all five days, depending on the guests choice.

"Tomorrow," I murmured, "I can't believe we're going there tomorrow."

"And in another five days, he'll either be _saved_ or he'll be sealed for life," Troian shrugged.

I slipped in a few swimsuits, even adding in a one piece I wore only when I was around relatives just in case. That was the bad thing about me — I overpacked.

"I guess we'll see what Brant and Shay have in mind," I said. Whatever it was, it had to be good.

* * *

After telling the rest of my story to my housemate and departing the house for the several interviews Mario set up for me, I made my way to the first interview, which would be a broadcast through the radio. I still knew I'd be taped for advertising purposes. Remembering the notes that my publicist had made for me a long time ago so I wouldn't humiliate myself, I went over them aloud in the car.

"Be yourself, but don't overdo it," I stated clearly, "politeness is everything. Make sure you use the restroom or carry a water bottle or anything else that'll restrict you from standing up. Be aware of the split screen. Don't touch your hair, don't touch your face. Don't nod excessively."

I struggled to remember a few more tips, but as long as I had most of them down, I was sure I'd be fine.

The beige Mary Jane platform pumps I decided to go for was desperately uncomfortable, but it was very flashy and needed for the television interview that would occur later on. I kept it in the passenger's seat, along with with the extra changes of clothes for the other interviews, and slipped on the more desirable hot pink wedges and proceeded to exit my vehicle.

I let my curls bounce against my shoulders, permitting myself to feel confident. The way I walked towards the radio station made me feel powerful. I didn't know why, nor did I question myself for it. I decided to follow the moment.

After getting checked in, along with having a momentary greeting session with the host and his crew, I waited silently on the chair as the crew adjusted the lights and camera and went over Mario's tips in my head.

_Don't touch your hair, don't touch your face._

My hands were intertwined with each other and in my lap.

_Politeness is everything._

A demure smile crossed my face.

_Use the restroom and carry a water bottle_.

I had already done my business at the house. Luckily, sparkling water was already provided by the host, so that was off the checklist as well. I reminded myself to stop by a convenience store on my way to the next interview.

The host, a man named Lucas, gave me a few pointers about the setup and how Michelle would accompany us with a bucketlist of questions for me, but didn't mention a thing about the agenda. It was something that every host was supposed to go over, but I didn't ask questions because I was fully aware of the type of interview this was — a very _scandalous_ one. Mario said he wanted me to challenge myself with this, mostly because the bigger interviewers are the most nosy ones and once I got there, I'd have to react to a difficult question in a matter of a split second with a calm manner. I wasn't nervous, but knowing me, I'd be the opposite later.

The countdown began, and once that number went down to one, there was no turning back.

"This is your boy, Lucas on air, and we're here with the beautiful, talented, miss Lucy Hale!"

I behaved with a shy smile and couldn't help but to giggle at the amount of clapping going on — inside _and_ outside of the room.

"Isn't she just adorable?" Lucas looked over at another lady, who I presumed was Michelle, and she nodded in agreement.

"A sweetheart," she nodded, her bangs falling in front of her hair. She twirled them around her pointer finger and tucked it behind her hair, which made me long to mess with my own hair.

_Don't touch your hair_, the instructions flashed in my head in a bold red. I took a deep breath and waited for the questions to fly by.

It went smoothly, at first. We started with my music career and what made me turn to country music instead of the oh-so popular pop music.

"Country music was my first love," I admitted, "I grew up with it. My father would always have it in the house and it was just picked up. Pop music is amazing as well, but if perfection existed, it would take the shape of country music."

We moved onto the topic of the show, and as always, they asked for a spoiler. Overall, we spoke about my character Aria and what she'd be dealing with in the upcoming season.

"She's still angry about what he did to him," I notified, "but I think she's at a point where she's asking herself, 'he saved your life, does that mean you owe him anything?"

Ezra, who took the shape of Ian, was next on the list of conversing. I knew where it would be leading to. Just when that thought filed my brain, it came out from Lucas' mouth.

"Any chance you're gonna ask Ian to get with you?" he asked teasingly. A small blush crept up on my face, but luckily, the heat didn't consume me, which told me that the foundation I powdered on previously would work in shielding it up.

"He's with Amanda Haynes," I explained, chuckling it out.

"Luc probably already knew that," Michelle nudged, "he knows all the dirt, so."

"You didn't answer my question, though," he waved her away as he stared at me intently. Suddenly, I felt like an ant being speculated under a magnifying glass. I resisted the urge to adjust the collar to my dress. Instead, I took a large gulp of my water.

"I'm probably not going to ask an engaged man to go out with me, so no. What happened to the guy asking the girl?"

"That's old school, Hale," he joked, "this is 2014. Ya'll can ask us out these days."

"I'm with Lucy on this one," Michelle sided, raising her hand as we exchanged a purposeful high five.

Another five minutes surpassed with the uncomfortable Ian and Amanda questions before the interview headed to a close.

"Listen, thanks for being on with us," Lucas stuck his hand out to me as the crew started gathering items and setting the room up for their next meeting.

"It was nice being on with you guys," I responded, shaking his hand. I was only lying by ten percent. It wasn't as bad as I had predicted, but the last ten minutes weren't exactly the most enjoyable moments of my life.

As I stepped out of the station, I downed the entire bottle of water, panting loudly as soon as the last drop flew into the gap of my mouth. If the other two interviews were going to be this rough, I was in for a day-long ride.

* * *

Around three in the afternoon, I finished my agonizing interview rounds and headed to the studio of the show. My legs hurt from walking in platform pumps that were precisely four inches long, but it was worth it when Mario called to let me know that, after checking his reports, I did a wonderful job. I was ecstatic to have finally cleared my name of bad prominence and hoped that no more rumors would go around. But it was Hollywood, a place where gossip and scandals were a daily part of life. Sure, it was frowned upon, but it was clearly sparking interests in people around the world. Celebrity magazines would be out of business if that wasn't the case.

I checked into the main desk before entering the lobby. To my surprise, not too many people lounged around. I assumed it was for the big number scene that contained most of the supporting characters. Ashley, Troian, and Shay awaited me on the black leather couch. I was amused by how symmetrical they all were — their legs were crossed over the other, their eyes were plastered on their bright phones, and their earphones blocked out the sound of the world.

I saw Ian sprawled on the couch opposite from them, along with Julian Morris, one of the recurring members on set who played my favorite onscreen doctor, Wren. It was, honestly, a pleasure to see him around, especially since Norman had hinted an impending plot that would take place between our characters. The sight of him was enough to block out Ian's face from beside.

"Lucy!" he greeted me with his jubilant accent. He stood up and embraced me into a hug. Hoping Ian would notice, I placed a light, cursory kiss against his cheek.

"How are you?" I asked, backing away from Julian, but still in a close parameter. He now harbored a stubble, which matured his face by a few years. His hair, which was normally straightened, had been tousled and curly, much like Ian's hair a few years ago. He looked fresh and lively.

"I'm great, actually," he countered, taking a seat next to Ian and motioning for me to join him as he explained, "I just finished working on guest starring on a couple of shows and getting some new auditions booked. How about you?"

"That sounds amazing!" I replied, my eyes widening a little bit. It was nice to know that I wasn't the only one exploring my options happily. "I'm working on my album and a new tour. I'm super busy these days."

"As am I," he nodded, flashing a smile. "Have you heard what Norman said?"

"About our plot?" I asked excitedly, "what is it?"

"He said that our characters are going to have some sort of platonic history," Julian responded, "but we haven't had a single scene alone, so I'm wondering how that's possible."

We chatted for a few more minutes, and during then, I sneaked a few glances from behind him. Ian, who I thought would be striving to listen to our every word, mimicked the actions of the girls and wrestled some headphones into his ears while tapping away at his smartphone. I suppressed a sigh at his lack of interest. It was palpable at that point. He had no desire in me whatsoever.

"Scene twenty four, calling for scene twenty four," I heard a voice from the intercom speak, taking my conversation with Julian to an immediate halt. "Lucy Hale and Ian Harding, please report to stage eight for hair and makeup."

My body stiffened, but loosened just as fast. I had forgotten completely about today's agenda, and judging by the slight bewildered look on Ian's face, it seemed he did too. I caught a glance at the girls, who were staring at us intently as we waved goodbye and advanced away from the lobby and outdoors. Stage eight was a three minute walk, but I had a feeling that those three minutes would be the length of my lifetime.

I was a few steps ahead of him. Our steps were in conformity, but I purposely lost place in our harmonization, taking faster strides. I wanted to turn around and talk to him and tell him that whatever I did was a mistake. We were alone and going to the same place, so he couldn't run away from me. Not when we'd be seated a few feet away getting styled.

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it just as fast. I couldn't do it. Fear controlled me, fear was my worst enemy.

I knew I lost my chance to say anything when we arrived at our destination. I mentally scolded myself for not taking a chance to prove that I wasn't worth being ignored. Doubt crossed my mind, but I pushed it away — _far_ away.

We were seated into our chairs as a collective number of people began working away at our faces and hair. Ian, who would always take the chance to mess up my hair, kept his hands to his self. I took a glance at him. He was busy chatting up the two makeup artists. As he grinned at something one of them said, his teeth scintillated. They were so perfect. Had the women that was working away at my lips not instruct me to move my head, I would have been staring at them the entire time.

I put on my actors' facade, only to show the directors that nothing peculiar was going on between Ian and I. He got the gist when I sat next to him on the couch that belonged to his character, and pulled out my phone as the crew continued getting the lighting fixed. I tried not noticing how truly close we were, but I couldn't help myself. I hid my eyes behind my phone, meanwhile watching his knee as it adjusted itself... barely three inches away from my leg. It reminded me of the day we played footsie and I dominated the game.

I leaned forward for the script that laid on the table and decided to skim through my lines before discarding it. I knew Marlene was strict about leaving scripts around the actual set unless it was hidden under something else, mostly because she didn't want the cameras to pick it up.

Not knowing what scene we were doing, I decided to go ahead and give this thing a shot by asking Ian. It was a step in a good direction. I contemplated the precise way I'd ask before blurting out,

"Do you know which one we're doing?"

His eyes wandered into mine and I instantly felt the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. Despite his hatred for me, I _knew_ he knew there was something there. He had to have felt that emotional connection, I could see it in his eyes. Neither of us seemed to look away until the amplified sound of Marlene rung through out set. Our eyes snapped back to their respective places — anywhere that wasn't on each other.

"Mar, what scene are we doing?" I shouted as I skimmed through the beginning contents.

"Twenty-four, Luce," she responded from the bullhorn.

I skipped pages all the way to the middle of the script, knowing that the scenes in the twenties usually resided at the halfway point. I could feel Ian's eyes, and whether they were on me or on the script, I couldn't decipher. Skimming through the scene, I saw a typical argument that would take place between them and it all came back to me. I remembered staying up and memorizing these the night before, but not too much emotion was needed to be practiced. All I had to do was channel the raging side of my feelings into the scene.

What I _wasn't_ expecting was the page after, where it very well may have been the moment my heart literally dropped to the pits of my stomach. A _sex scene_. Of course, we wouldn't really be doing it, but if it was exactly going along with what it said in the script, the both of us would have to be shirtless.

Accidentally, I let out a dispiriting groan. Truth be told, I didn't know if I was happy or sad about it. Shock consumed me, even when we were called to our places for blocking. I was placed outside of the staged apartment, staring at the door that had the number '3B' on it. I waited for my cue, trying to ignore the stomachache that grew on me and used my lines as a distraction.

A camera was set beside where I was at, along with a mini camera crew to record my entrance. Due to Marlene's pestering of wanting this entire scene to be impeccable, we shot the door scene about ten to fifteen times before she was fully satisfied. I was supposed to walk inside and slam the door behind me angrily.

When we picked up the scene, we were forced to let go of the tension. The both of us knew that if we didn't want to shoot for a long time, we'd have to falsely cooperate with each other. That didn't mean we'd get playful. In fact, we exchanged nothing else except for the words that were designed for us.

"We should have you—" Marlene pointed to Ian, "—get up closer to Lucy, _Aria_. Ezra's supposed to be hesitant. He's longed for her but he doesn't know how to get past her outraged barrier without disturbing her. Touch her with your eyes at first."

He nodded at the description of emotions before turning to me. Our eyes met again once the word 'action' was shouted out. My angry demeanor shadowed me. I thought about Amanda and how she approached me the other day with her blackmail scheme. I thought about how Ian neglected me, after he told me he was my friend. I thought about how Troian's mishaps would be Amanda's sweet bliss. And all of it went into the words I roared.

"I don't even want to talk about this anymore, Ezra," I said, taking a step back and slapping a hand to my forehead. I knew that foundation would cover my palms, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the series of events I knew would take place in moments, "I just came to tell you that whatever there could have been between us is done. You can rip up those tickets to the museum or take your precious diamond called _Alison_ but I'm not going."

I knew I had done my part correctly when I didn't hear Mar's voice panicking for us to stop and redo it. I kept my steady stance firm, glaring into his eyes, where I tried to locate some sort of hint that Amanda hadn't taken away his soul just yet.

"Aria," Ian said adamantly, but was already stopped by the insistent director.

"Speak softer!" Marlene called out, "he's afraid that his voice would be enough to scare her away!"

Another call of action and he repeated his line.

"Aria," he reran, taking a small step towards me. The flakes of gold around his pupils began to dance with lust, just as it said in the script. His lips were separated; ajar. The way they looked moist almost made me lose my fiery touch. Suddenly, I was growing eager to be able to kiss him, but contained whatever I felt inside of the most caged boxes of thoughts in my brain. "What I did wasn't my fault. I didn't kiss Alison. She came onto _me_."

He said his lines very cautiously, upholding his side of the acting with intensity and passion. Though I was supposed to feel anything but joyed with him, I was always in love with our scenes and the chemistry. We worked so well together, even at a time like this, where we were to be ignoring each other.

I softened my look ever so slightly, remembering what the words in the script said: _She wants to believe him. She knows when he's telling the truth, and in that moment, everything about him screams honest. She is still hesitant, for the last time she let her guard down, she was stabbed in the back._

After our giant pause, I knew what was going to happen next. Another thing I knew was that Marlene was going to make us shoot it _over and over_ again. I had to say, I didn't mind at all.

The combat boots I switched into for my character brought me closer to Ian. It took a split second before my arms were looped around his neck and my lips hungrily displayed affection to his lips. His lips reeked of peppermints, to my surprise. It was supposed to be 'angry sex,' according to Marlene, which made me want to laugh and throw myself off a bridge at the same time. Unlike all the other times when I was most conscious about the crew watching us make out, I was more conscious of Ian.

His kissing style had changed, I noticed. Previously, our dominant wars had consisted of his extreme use of tongue. Now, he barely used it. I had to make the move to allow myself entrance inside his mouth. I couldn't tell if it was by choice and he was still putting his guard up by not exposing all of him, or if kissing Amanda was changing his ways.

A moment in time filled in the flooded breach in my mind, when Ian had snatched up a pack of condoms at that convenience store. My head jerked back all of sudden, and the groans of Marlene could be heard from miles away.

"That was perfect! Now the flow won't be the same," she complained, pressing the bullhorn to her head, "we have enough tape for that kiss, so let's just move on. You guys know what to do, right?"

I nodded hesitantly. My vessels were pumping anxiety. The leading steps up to the ultimate scene were just as intimate as the real thing.

"And... _action!_"

Our lips reattached themselves to each other at once, but I abruptly pulled away as my hands traveled to his belt buckle. Because I couldn't unbuckle it — more so because I wasn't _allowed_ to — he disconnected my hands away from him to pull up my shirt above and over my arms. I was so thankful to myself for choosing the simple black bra with the lacy straps. If I had gone a different route with my selection, things would have ended up pretty awkward.

Because of that, my self-esteem had boosted up drastically. As I helped him slip out of his shirt, I heard Marlene shout out, "_cut__!_"

I used the opportunity to gain back my breath, already longing his lips to devour mine. I caught his widened eyes as they took a sweeping glance at my exposed midriff before staring back into my eyes. They were blackened in lust, and I couldn't help but to think that it wasn't only for show. Had his conviction for me wash away?

As Marlene explained our next set of instructions, a sight to the right of me almost made me topple down to the floor in shock. In big, bountiful curves and an audacious smirk stood Amanda in the midst of the crew with her arms crossed and her arm leaned against something in sight. I could feel Ian's eyes following where I was looking at, and I noticed he didn't appear surprised in the least.

Marlene seemed to have watched as our attention was caught to something that wasn't her. She turned her head, tilting it in the process.

"Amanda," she called out, no emotion in her tone. "You aren't permitted to be here. This is the shooting area. Cast and crew only."

"Would money help?" she offered. "Two, three thousand dollars for me to chill here for an hour or two?"

I scoffed loudly and rolled my eyes, placing my hand on my naked hip. This was what she did. She used her benefits to persuade others instead of using the gift of gab to help herself. I couldn't possibly have despised her more than I did right then.

"No," Marlene said firmly. "Are you going to leave my set or am I going to have to call security?"

It seemed by her face that she had never been rejected such an extensive amount of money for such a small favor. She gave me a narrowed, dirty look and turned on her heel, sauntering out of the area. I didn't fail to see a few of the male crew have a stare at her lower regions in the back as she walked away.

"Now, where were we?" Marlene said with a smirk.

In minutes, Ian and I were on the bed. After asking Ian if he was okay with it, they had me take off my bra in the privacy of covers, and I had been given a strapless one so that my arms were very visible and the absence of the straps created an allusion that we were fully unclothed. My arms, neck, and upper back had been dusted with excessive foundation to contribute a glow.

Before the scene started, I hinged my neck up, almost groaning at the pain. I didn't want to rest myself anywhere on Ian, and I couldn't shift myself around in fear that my _very_ loose strapless would alter along with it, and that would mean the heart of my bosoms would be pressed solely against his. Regardless of being friends or less, I wasn't going to let him get a feel of that yet.

"You can relax," I heard Ian say. For a moment, I thought that the voice was only coming from my mind, but it was actually coming from the man himself. I looked his way, our faces barely a quarter of a foot away from each other. Because of the way our bodies were pressed against, I knew he could feel my heart racing. It would pound against his firm chest._  
_

"Th-thanks," I stuttered. I debated whether I should have given him a smile, but decided against it and slid down a little, settling my head onto his uncovered chest. I felt joyous, for a moment. His heartbeat was music to my ears — or _ear_, since my head was tilted. His pace was slow and controlled, but gradually increased its pace, encouraging my heart to do the same. My stomach fluttered, thinking about how maybe, _just maybe_, he was feeling the same way I was. I loved him so much, it pained me not to be able to share a kiss without being behind the veneers of our characters.

Our tongues were entangled in each other once more. Since the covers were covering the most clothed part of us, we were being taped the most up from up close. I was supposed to be relishing his kisses, but all I could think about was not crying as I reminisced about our most depressing moments. My rejection kiss, the way I told him I hated him, when we were on the phone and he told me he couldn't choose between Amanda and I, nights where I replaced sleeping for weeping, and so _so_ much more. There was an unfortunate amount of angst that was bottled up, even when we were still friends.

When I knew Marlene was distracted, my kisses trailed back to his ear. I had to tell him one more thing while I had the chance.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to the quietest of my ability. If that was the last thing I was going to say to him, it would be the phrase I wanted to tell him the most.

* * *

**A/N:**so, i hope you guys enjoyed that lucian scene as much as i enjoyed writing it! let me know what your favorite part is in this chapter or the entire story if you can. i'm resisting on working on any other stories (besides cinderella, which btw the last chapter will be posted pretty soon since it's all typed up) so i can get focused on this and hopefully get it finished before the end of the month. did i mention the 151 reviews for this story?! I greatly appreciate every single one of your compliments, suggestions, and feedback, really. it lights up my face to see that notification in my email that shows i have a review.


	15. Plan A

"That's a wrap!" Marlene called out as the crew began clapping it out and almost immediately started organizing items around the apartment for the next time we shot here. I wanted to stay idle on Ian's chest for the rest of my life, but sadly, I knew all good things had to come to an end.

I felt an arm pull me up and away from Ian, rubbing damp cloths on my back to get the radiating foundation off and get me into my clothes right away. The main light went on and the dimmer ceased to be. I struggled to find a focus. Everything was a massive blur and I tried vigorously not to have a peek at Ian, who still remained next to me. His legs wiggled around from underneath mine. I scooted over to give him room as a new pair of makeup artists swarmed us. My heart still raced from the feeling of being so close to him.

In twenty minutes, him and I were dressed and ready to leave set. We left at the same time, walking back to the main lobby the exact way we left it — tension-filled and harmoniously. I could taste his minty breath on my lips. Resisting the compulsion to bring my fingers to my lips was challenging enough.

I kept my eyes down, peeking at his legs nearly every other second as we took a turn to the alley-looking road that led us to our destination. I had nothing to say to him — nothing that he would actually listen to. Was the thought that he was getting married in six days not sink into him? Did it feel like a fantasy to him as much as it was for me? I couldn't imagine seeing him awaiting his veiled bride and be genuinely happy. With all offense, Amanda was the worst human being I had ever met in my entire life.

"Not accepted," I heard Ian mumble, just when my racing heart began to slow down. I looked up at him, trying to spot a headset on either ear before noticing he wasn't talking on the phone, he was talking to me. _Again_.

"Wh-what?" I stammered, truly confused by his choice of words. _Not accepted_, what did that mean?

"Your apology," he said, turning his head to look at me, "I don't accept it. You don't even know what you're apologizing for."

My mouth dropped slightly in disbelief. Was this guy serious? He, who should have been the one to apologize for being such a fool, was telling me that my apology was declined? He was dating

This wasn't right. This wasn't the Ian I knew, the fun, humorous guy who didn't leave his house without an extra smile. This wasn't the man I somehow fell in love with. No, this Ian — he was different. He was _corrupted_. Besides his looks, I couldn't unravel him. He was downed in malice and hate and was on the road to no return.

Why couldn't I just get over him?

"Why aren't you _talking_ to me?" I demanded angrily as I clenched my fists in fury, "what have I done, Ian? You can talk to me. You always have. Is she... is _she_ making you do this?"_  
_

"No, Lucy!" he boomed, stopping in place, which caused me to do the same, "get it inside your head. I love Amanda. She isn't cruel like you say she is."

"You're right," I retorted, "_she's worse_. Do you even know what she's done to me? And not only to me, to my friends—"

"What does your problem with her have to do with me?" Ian snapped, his eyebrows knitting tightly, "leave me out of it."

Infuriated couldn't even _begin_ to describe how I was feeling — not with Ian, but with the situation in itself. He didn't understand that Amanda had everything to do with him. She laced him into all of my conflicts with her, using him as my weakness. I wanted him to see what I saw. Amanda placed blindfolds on him, and after the marriage, she'd add on handcuffs to him. I felt sorrowful for Ian. He didn't know what he was getting himself into and it was my job to show him.

"Ian, listen to me—"

"No!" he roared, starting to take fast steps, "just because you're desperately and disgustingly in love with me _doesn't_ mean I feel the same way. Leave me be, Lucy. Leave me be before certain things happen that you don't want happening."

"What things?" I questioned, chasing after him, "what are you talking about? What things would happen?"

"Just... things!" he yelled, " just... leave me the hell alone."

I paused in my tracks and watched him walk away from our blaring argument, suddenly feeling the need to lament with a friend. Was he too deep into this to be saved? Was Ian really done with me? Was it all over?

I thought about the promise I made to myself and reeled it to the front of my mind, blocking out Ian's recent crude words. I vowed to save him and make the last second of the wedding the moment I'd officially give up. I couldn't leave him alone, especially if my suspicions that Amanda had something to with this was true. For all I knew, the real Ian was being held hostage at mind, forced to live in the moment. I _had_ to try and help.

For him.

* * *

"Lucy?"

I jolted my head up to the sound of my voice, snapping me out of thoughts and realizing that the whole point of being with a crowd of friends at my house was to engage myself into conversation and get my mind off of Ian.

"What?" I questioned Troian, who was sitting on the other side of the couch with Ashley's legs rested on hers.

"I asked if you wanted any toppings?" Troian repeated, clutching the phone in her hand, "for the pizza."

I shook my head in response and looked to the left of me, where Brant sat, tapping away at his mobile device. I leaned in, peering over his shoulder and putting all my weight on his back.

"What's up?" I asked beyond the chattering of the rest of our friends. I could see a picture of Janel and him in an outdoor setting; Brant hugging her waist and Janel kissing him on the cheek. Before I could spot out details, Brant clicked out of the picture with an undeniable speed. As a startled look crossed my appearance, I saw him looking back at me with his normal charming smile, as if nothing suspicious had happened.

"What's going on, Goose?" he teased. "How do you feel about today?" I unwrapped my arms around his neck and sat down next to him, giving him a look. I knew he was trying to change the unspoken subject to another direction, but it wasn't going to work.

"How is she?" I questioned, deciding not to jump right into it.

"Who?"

I gave him a nudge. He wasn't making this easy. "You know who. Janel."

He shrugged, keeping his nonchalant gaze directed. "She's okay. They said she'll be released in a week. I wish she could come to see the plan unfold."

I bit down on my lower lip ferociously, tempted to investigate a little more.

"Brant, is there..." I cleared my throat, leaning in so that Keegan, who was sitting to the right of Brant, couldn't hear. "Is there something going on between you and Janel?"

His reaction took me by surprise: laughter. He took a clump of his highlighted brown, quiff-styled hair before letting it slip through his fingers. It seemed like an exasperated action, as though he was defeated.

"Let's just say I've been in the same position you're in right now," he said vaguely, "being in love with someone you know you can't have because they're engaged." He smiled at me before adding, "besides getting him out of Amanda's way, that's why I want to help you with Ian. You have a chance to change everything before it's too late."

"That doesn't mean it's too late for you," I insisted, resisting the urge to hug him so he wouldn't feel as if I were pitying him— _and _because I could almost literally _feel_ Troian's stares attacking me. I never knew how similar our situations were, mostly because I never had the guts to ask. "You have a better chance with Janel than I have one with Ian. Ian won't even talk to me, and when he does, it's worse than when he ignores me. I don't even know why I'm going through with this whole plan thing, it won't even wor—"

"Hey, hey, wait," Brant interrupted, adjusting his body to face me completely, giving us more privacy from the rest. His face had softened, the cocky smile completely wiped away. There was his other side, the one I rarely came to meet. "If he didn't care, he wouldn't be staring at you during set."

"Yeah, _death_ stares," I scoffed, looking down into my lap, where my fingers involuntarily fidgeted with each other, my newest habit ever since I stopped biting on them.

"More like the stares I give really hot ladies to call them over," Brant grinned as he lightly shoved my shoulder, causing me to chuckle. I looked up at him, struggling to keep my smile intact even though I felt it slipping away. I still felt hopeless. If I didn't have Brant and the rest of my friends to push me down the right path, the chances for me to continue would have been slim to none. "Don't give up."

I looked up and away from my twiddling fingers, nodding in response. I didn't know if I could promise it, so I decided to pull out my phone, signaling I was done with the topic. Troian leaped up as soon as the doorbell rung, indicating the delivery was ready.

Upon entering Twitter, I saw Ian post a photo of him and Amanda — a relaxed look on his face and a flashy smile on hers. The caption stated, '4 more days' with two ring emojis following it. Instantly, I knew Amanda was the one that had tweeted it, only because Ian never used emojis. I was tempted to post a photo of Brant and I to concoct envy on Ian's side, but my frisson dissolved when I remembered he had unfollowed me a few days ago. I believed it was Amanda's doing. He wasn't petty — then again, I never believed he'd call out my love for him in a nasty, spiteful way.

"Food's ready!" Troian announced, setting three boxes of pizza on the table, along with two big bottles of soda. As everyone crowded around, I stood up.

"I'll go grab some cups," I said, making my way around the couch and into the kitchen. I had no desire to eat; my appetite was gone since morning. I had been so anxious about tonight, and it wasn't even the wedding date.

But it _was_ the wedding location.

We were finally going to Columbia Rose, one of Amanda's estates. If the current circumstances didn't apply, there was no way I'd be there four days prior to the real thing, or even at all. But we were committing to 'Plan A' — a title Ashley insisted was unique while Brant teased how it was far from it — something that was going to put small dent in the wedding, depending solely on Ian. But the others didn't know how stubborn he was.

Based on the day before, I was able to see a different side to him. I didn't even bother to tell the others, in fear that they'd begin to lose their ambition just as I did. All I wanted was for him to get out of Amanda's hold, and if I was lucky, start fresh with me. Was that possible if he _mocked_ me for thinking it? I was in a state of denial and yet I needed everything to go as planned for Ian's well being and my entire sanity.

I rubbed my temples, relieving any tension that tended to bottle up in that area. My phone buzzed nonstop in my pocket, and knowing that Mario was most likely busy with his other clients at this time, I didn't have the sudden urge to answer it. I grabbed six plastic cups, stacked them up against each other for easier portability, and made my way in the living room.

"Did you get lost in the kitchen, Luce?" Ashley inquired, rummaging the second box of pizza after tossing the first box underneath the table, which was already finished and empty.

"I was talking to my mom," I lied, passing out the cups. "She called."

Conversation continued, and after pouring myself a half a glass of Pepsi, I checked out the time on my cell phone. It was already _6:50_. I let out a deep sigh and leaned myself against the pillow behind me, looking at notifications before enticing myself with a new game my sister recommended me to download.

"Lucy, you might wanna come along," Keegan advised, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. I looked up, realizing I was zoned out and in my deep thoughts once again. Everyone was already up and out the door. I stood up, declining Keegan's request to help roll out my suitcase. I did a double take on everything in the house, such as making sure all of the lights in the house were closed, any energy-sucking devices were closed, and the air conditioning was closed, before letting the tawny haired man lead me out. I made sure to lock my doors and set the alarms up, in case someone decided to break inside.

We split into different cars — two people in three cars, just like the way we came to my house. Troian and I shared cars while the boys and the duo shared.

The ride there was much longer than I had anticipated. What seemed like a thirty minute ride turned into an hour long ride, then an hour and a half, followed by two hours. We used music as a pastime, deciding that getting into serious topics would stray Troian's concentration on the road. I watched the view from the window, the pastures reminding me of a place I lounged around the outskirts of my hometown. What if I stayed back at Tennessee? Things between Ian and I wouldn't have accumulated and I would have never had the chance to feel the numerous stabs of heartbreak.

I bit the bottom of my tongue aggressively, rebuking myself for my thoughts. What was I thinking? Even if I didn't have Ian, I had an amazing life in Los Angeles. I was luckier than most, being able to do the two things I loved doing most: singing and acting. I had so many fortunate opportunities that came my way and I wouldn't dare trade it for the simple life.

But it would be so much better with Ian, the little voice in my head told me so. One thing was for sure— there was no denying my tiny thoughts.

Troian didn't have to tell me when we reached our destination. The way a rooftop poked out from the tallest of trees was a big hint. As we neared the gates to the entrance, I couldn't quash my gasp at the sight of the place. It was _beyond_ breathtaking. Carnations and daisies entangled in tall shrubs and made rows around the gigantic, silver-colored mansion. Two separate buildings lined up ahead of the building, closer towards the gates. They were much skinnier and even taller than the main building. One had a clock, which showed it was already past nine o'clock, while the other had an opening. I could scarcely detect a telescope.

Troian showed her RSVP pass and her ID as instructed by the guards in the front. I assumed Shay, Brant, Ashley, and Keegan had already gone inside, since their cars were nowhere to be found. Troian followed the signs to the parking lot, which was shielded from a birds eye view by a rooftop, but the sides had no walls, so people could enter from any side with the exception of the car entrance.

We circled around towards the front with our suitcases in hands, where a few men in their older thirties lounged around. One of them had a cigarette in hand, which caused me to hold my breath until entering the main door.

The inside was just as luxurious as the outside. Chandeliers with an illuminating glow hung from the high ceiling. The floors were marble, patterns stamping them. Posh couches and chairs were assembled towards the sides as a lounging location. I was surprised why there weren't so many people around to enjoy the setting, unless the rest of the place was just as stunning as this was. Chances were, it was even better. I had to give Amanda a little bit of credit for the way she designed it.

I spotted Brant and Keegan at the front desk, taking my time to weave my way through. I wasn't going to let my clumsy side out, and in order for that to happen, I couldn't rush. It seemed like that was all I was doing those days — _rushing_.

"Where's Shay and Ash?" Troian asked, causing me to glance behind my shoulder to search for the dynamic duo.

"Gone," Keegan answered, "they wanted to get settled into their rooms."

We all agreed to call and meet up as soon as we got our things settled in our rooms. Quite frankly, I had lost a lot of sleep in the past few days and all I wanted was to curl up under sheets and fall into a deep slumber, preferably _without_ a nightmare regarding Ian. It wouldn't matter anyways. My life already consisted of a nightmare regarding Ian.

After receiving our keys, we used instructions from a pamphlet Troian picked up from the front, which lead us up a flight of stairs and to a wide hall of identical doors with different numbers. The floors, unlike the main floor and the stairs, were carpeted. We found 106A and entered. Just when I thought the place couldn't get any better, our room proved us otherwise.

We unpacked our things and debated how much the estate must have costed. I longed to tuck myself into the comfortable, queen sized bed, but obligations called out to us. Thankfully, it didn't take too long to situate our items.

I grabbed my laptop and sat next to Troian on the bed as she used the opportunity to dial Keegan and ask where they all wanted to meet up.

"Tell them to come over here," I whispered, not wanting to go anywhere else at the time. Maybe if they engaged in conversation without me, they wouldn't notice me snoozing off. Troian agreed and repeated my words through the phone. Judging by the way she talked afterwards, it seemed like they went for it. A relieved smile tugged on the corners of my lips.

Within minutes, the six of us sat around idly. Ashley had a bottle of vodka, in which all but Troian and I insisted in having. After the last time I had gotten intoxicated in front of the engaged couple, I didn't want to touch another drink. I understood why Troian didn't want it as she rubbed her stomach — the baby. Not only that, but unnecessary drinking wasn't her scene anyways.

I didn't remember how long I had been awake for, but the next time I was conscious enough to remember, I was sprawled across my bed and a new setting took place in the room. There were no longer six of us. Troian slept cozily inside her bed and sunlight poured through the shudders, causing me to squint dramatically. I was in the slender sweater and jeans I wore the day before. It was my motivation to get up and change into something more comfortable.

"You awake?" I heard Troian grumble from behind me. I turned around, slipping on my leggings.

"Sort of," I shrugged, "I was gonna fall back asleep, but I can't sleep in jeans, so."

I watched as she took her time to stretch her limbs, her entire body extending in the process. She was fairly tall, so it almost took her legs over the edge of the bed.

"My morning sickness is probably the worst thing ever," she complained, frowning, "one minute, I have a huge headache and the next, I'm throwing up."

"Do you know how long you're going to have those symptoms?" I questioned, biting the inside of my cheek.

"A few months, I think?" she answered with uncertainty. "I haven't been doing my research lately."

I couldn't blame her. Her schedule had been extremely packed to get her mind off of things, but it seemed to me that she accidentally put too much on her plate.

I slipped on a floral printed strapless and a cardigan over it and made my way to my bed, opening my laptop and using the time to go over my business email. Nothing too intriguing caught my eye, but something made me want to click out to find a certain website. I knew it wasn't right at all, but I couldn't help myself. I went to the search engine and typed in 'Amanda Haynes.' Headlines of all sorts about the wedding and the rivalry between her and I showed up in the news section, but there was something in particular that I was looking for and I found it, eventually.

As a special graphic design of Amanda popped up as the header, I knew instantly that I found her website. Her latest post, which had been posted last night, was the first thing I could see. Tons of pictures were linked to her article, mostly of her and Ian, along with a glimpse of the inside of the estate.

I zoomed into one of the pictures of her and Ian, seeing the goofy grins on their faces. They looked genuinely happy, which made me think about my crazy, blown up theories about Amanda being the center of some devious scheme. It could have been possible that whatever I do to destruct the wedding could be the worst thing for everyone. If Ian really loved her as much as he said he did, he would never forgive me. And that would be equally worse than him getting married.

All I could think about — no, all I _needed_ was our friendship back. The more the days passed with this wedge in between us, the more I wanted was to be his friend. I just wanted his companionship, somebody I could confide to. Even if we couldn't move forward romantically, he'd know how I felt about him and that door would _always_ be poem for him.

I could envision a life for us in the distant future, where we'd get through all of the struggles and regroup. He'd finally be able to see that Amanda was as useless as a stone on the road and that I was all he was looking for. Ian used to talk about spending time over at Tennessee with me, so if he liked it enough, we could spend our retired days there. I smiled at the thought of being an old, married couple with him.

As Troian threw a toothbrush at me, I came back down from cloud Ian and settled back to reality. My imagination got the best of me. Sometimes, it could even get the worst of me.

I closed my laptop and picked up the toothbrush, making my way towards the bathroom before noticing that she had already taken an occupancy inside. I sighed, but my time to sit hadn't come yet. Not when the door had made a banging coming from the other side.

"Who is it?" I called out, nearing the door.

"Housekeeping," I heard a falsetto voice, even though the false disguise could only be owned by Brant.

"This isn't even a hotel, _housekeeper_," I teased, unlocking and opening the entrance way. Brant, Keegan, Ashley, and Shay made their way around me and climbed the beds like it was their own. I heard the door to the bathroom open, and out came Troian. She looked a bit queasy but her light smile covered up the minor signs. I took the chance to head into the restroom, freshen up, and unite with my friends.

"We're thinking of going to the fourth floor," Shay filled in, "there's a big ass mall there and I don't think one suitcase is enough for four days."

"I'm only going for the food palace," Keegan chimed, "I hear there's a ton of little restaurants in one area and the girls wouldn't let Brant and I eat unless we left our room."

"You in?" Ashley inquired. I nodded in response, knowing that staying in the room alone would only bring my thoughts wandering off to Ian and depress me even more. A nice change of scenery would help my mopey mood, right?

Wrong.

I found that it was better to be locked up in my room than step foot anywhere above the second floor. Everywhere I turned, I heard conversation about the engaged couple, I saw pictures of them, there were banners, decorations, all regarding Amanda and Ian. Shay and Troian linked theirselves on either side of my arms just so I wouldn't unexpectedly run out.

We passed a rack of solely glimmered shirts and a wave of anger coursed my veins as I held back the urge to knock the entire rack down. How could someone so evil possibly have the chance to afford all that and more? She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve anything.

I wasn't an angry person in general, but everything about her seemed to trigger a temper in me. I hated the control she had over my bad side. She knew what buttons to press, even when she was nowhere in sight.

"Do you guys like this on me?" Shay asked, bringing a plain white shirt with a pastel version of Amanda on the front. "I just love Amanda Haynes _so_ much! She's such a bitch and she loves flaunting her boobs to grab attention! I wanna be exactly like her!" Shay posed dramatically, plumping her lips up to make it look like Amanda's. I laughed at the sight of her mimicry. She refused to give up on the joke even when people passed her and gave her strange stares.

"You're so lame," Ashley teased, shaking her head.

The six of us continued our journey around the stores, listening to Brant's whining about how it was going to take us hours to find one article of clothing.

"Why don't you two just go to the food palace?" Troian suggested. I waited to hear a response, but when I heard nothing, I looked back. They were nowhere to be found.

"Wow," was all I could say as I giggled. Looking back to my front, I saw my worst nightmare. Paparazzi swarmed like bumblebees, making a circle around the four of us. I clung onto Shay and Troian a little tighter, keeping my head down to avoid the bright lights of the flash photography. I could hear Ashley cursing loudly as she led us through. Why were these people here? They couldn't have snuck into Columbia Rose — the place had a high-leveled alarm system. Did Amanda give them an invitation for the sole reason of targeting us? Did she even know I was here?

Then, I heard the worst come out from the mouth of one of the photographers.

"Troian, Troian! Can you tell us about the baby drama and Patrick Adams? Is it true that you were raped?"

I saw Troian's hand swing in the air, targetting one of the paps. Fury and shock carved the lines above her brows. I felt Ashley pull us into a secluded area, shutting the door behind us. I unhinged my arms away from the two girls, bringing my hands up to my face and forcing back my tears. That was it. The secret was out.

Beyond the uttering sobs of Troian and the enraged gulps of breath from Ashley, I heard a familiar giggle echo. The same giggle that rung in my ears during all of my lowest points. I turned around, seeing stalls and sinks, showing me that I was in a bathroom. Standing next to the trash can with a paper towel in hand was Amanda with the biggest, most malicious smile I had ever seen.

"Aw, are you okay?" she asked with no sign of sincerity, looking at Troian as she threw her waste in the trash can.

"Are you really asking me if I'm okay?" Troian said shakily, each word containing a meaning. Her tear filled eyes held nothing but lost hope. I stepped over to her, wrapping an arm around her as I glared at the she-devil.

"We had a deal," I reminded angrily, "why the hell would you break your side?"

"I didn't break it," she said innocently as she raised a hand to her chest, "you did. I only went through with the rest of our deal. You think I left your little show rehearsal yesterday as soon as your rude ass boss told me to? No. I know what you told him afterwards." She chuckled, taking a step towards the four of us as her tall, creamy white pumps made a clacking sound against the floor. "It's really a shame to see how easily he turned you down."

I opened my mouth to make a retort, but I realized that there was nothing I could say that would make a difference. Everyone in the world knew about this secret, and in about nine months when Troian carried that newborn baby in her arms, it would be proven correct. It was all my fault.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to Troian as Shay took a leap towards the girl, just like she did when Amanda made a verbal attack at me on set a week ago.

"I should really tell Carter and Olivia about your plastic work," Shay snapped, "how would they feel about giving their favorite grandchild their inheritance as soon as they pass on?"

"Go ahead, tell them," Amanda shrugged, "they won't believe you. I've already made sure that everything you've told them about me looked like a lie."

"Not unless I say it's because of Ian," Shay countered, "Olivia called me a few days ago and she told me she doesn't like him. She thinks he's the one that's rushing into the wedding when you're the one that planned it all. Isn't that right?"

I was so confused. What were they talking about? Who was Carter and Olivia? What kind of history did they have?

"Okay, what in the world is going on?" I cut in, stepping forward as I crossed my arms.

Shay looked at me hesitantly before sighing. "She's my cousin."

My jaw dropped slightly, opening my mouth in the process. I stared at the two women, suddenly noticing the massive similarities. Their eyes were the same, curved almond shape with the same beautiful shade of brown. They both had a light copper shade of color and they stood tall in height and impeccable in posture. Slender arms, slender legs, model thin. The only differences were the work Amanda had gotten done, such as her nose, cheekbones, and even her forehead.

"Wh-why haven't you told any of us this?" I asked. I wasn't angry or upset, but I was still perplexed that I hadn't noticed the connection in the first place.

"She told me," Ashley spoke up.

"I just didn't want you to judge me because of her," Shay answered guiltily. "I'm nothing like her."

"Believe me, I know," I nodded, "you wouldn't go to the ends of the earth to destroy someone's life. And you wouldn't do it for a living either."

I could hear the bustling of the paparazzi from outside, ready to devour us as soon as we're ready to step outside.

"We have to get out of here _now_," Ashley advised, "if we don't, there'll be more and more."

"Yeah, come on," I agreed, for Troian's sake. I grabbed her hand and held on tightly before looking back at Amanda. "I hope this made you happy."

"It did," she commented, smiling. "Have fun! I hope to see you all at the wedding!"

I rolled my eyes, looking back at Ashley and Shay who opened the door and pushed their way through, making a path for Troian and I. I could barely shield myself, let alone the both of us. But alas, we made it to our room greeted by the confused looks of Brant and Keegan, who held something greasy and edible in their hands.

"We need to get this plan going," Shay ordered, "like now."

* * *

As soon as I stepped foot onto the cold, tiled floor, I could smell the heavy scent of chlorine. I hugged my towel around my body tighter as I felt the interesting twist of heat and coldness blow against me, shuddering in the process. My eyesight didn't fail me when I saw the gigantic pool, which ranged from three feet shallow to twelve feet deep. About four or five jacuzzis were planted in the corners, only a couple of them being occupied. Tons of people lounged around, and I noticed the age range fell squarely on young adults.

I felt Brant's arm drape around my shoulder, reeling me in and placing a kiss on my cheek, but only using that as a decoy to whisper, "I see them."

'Them' must have been Amanda and Ian. I smiled at him and nonchalantly scanned the blaring crowds, eventually spotting the couple in the deeper end of the pool, talking. Smiles were plastered on their faces and many people's eyes were glancing over at them. I would bet anything Amanda was relishing in the attention. I did everything I could not to stare at the handsome man in the pool. His smile was so captivating, and to know that Amanda could have put it there made me feel uneasy.

I saw Ashley and Shay in the jacuzzi behind them, staring at us determinedly. I gave them the smallest of nods before intertwining my hand with his and leading Brant to one of the vacant tables.

"I hope this works," I sighed, slipping off the towel from my waist, along with the sunglasses, and setting it on the plastic table.

"Ashley's so certain 'Operation Make Ian Jealous' is going to work," Brant chuckled, "and the second lame title award goes to her."

I grinned, shaking my head in the process. "Have you gotten her back since the last incident? What was that brown stuff she got on you?"

"Oh! That was baby food and mashed, rotten bananas put together," he recalled, crinkling his nose, "but I haven't gotten her yet. That's why she's been trying to stay close to me, so I won't come up with something behind her back."

I rolled my eyes. Their pranks were beyond my understanding, but it was still pretty amusing.

I adjusted the chest part of my bikini top, making sure nothing was going to slip out. I used my ponytail to pull my hair up into a messy bun before looking at Brant with a sweet smile, using it as a disguise so I could discuss one matter with him.

"Do you think staying out here will get his attention?" I asked, "or should we get in the pool?"

"Pool," Brant answered almost immediately, "besides, I'm not wearing trunks to stay out here."

We took our time entering the pool, making sure that our fake affection made up our grand entrance. The water was much warmer than I assumed it to be. It relaxed my tension filled muscles. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ian watching us. I grinned happily, staring at Brant to make it appear as if he were the one making me happy.

"Guess who's watching," I giggled, draping my arms around Brant and pulling him in closer.

"Your boyfriend," he teased, even though he seemed just as accomplished as I was.

"It's only a matter of time before he intrudes," I said, swaying with the current of the water. I used my thumb to gently stroke the stubble around Brant's lips, knowing that it would drive the unmalicious Ian wild, only because it's what I used to do to him when we were still in that strictly platonic stage in our relationship. He told me it soothed him.

"Holy shit, there's this hot chick over on that side of the pool," Brant gasped, "can I—"

"No!" I intruded, holding back my laughter at the desire in his eyes. I looked back, spotting a group of women who were eyeing us — Brant, specifically.

"Hey!" I looked back at Brant, straightening his head to look at me. "You're supposed to be _my_ fake boyfriend."

"Looks like someone's jealous," Brant commented, his cocky smirk appearing on his face, "is this our first fake fight? Our first fake breakup?"

"You're such an idiot," I grinned, clasping the sides of his face. We continued our affectionate performance, appearing as if we were a couple, when in reality, we were debating whether the president of the United States made more money than Amanda and other nonsensical subjects. I was beginning to grow disappointed with the outcome. I was sure an hour or two had passed and nothing was coming from Ian.

"We should get out," I suggested, looking over at Shay and Ashley, who were in a deep conversation. Brant obliged. We made our way out, the water dripping from our necks and down. I became cold in an instant and it seemed to me that Brant had suspected it by the way he rushed to grab my towel and wrap it around me.

"Thanks," I smiled, looking up at his tall figure. "Is he looking?"

"More like ogling," he snickered, pulling me into him. "Amanda's trying to get his attention. She's kissing him and all but he's just gaping at us like—" Brant's eyes went wide, trying to mimic the way Ian was staring. I laughed, contentment warming my heart. My doubts had all slipped away at his report. Everything was looking up. We just had to keep on going with the act and push it a little further so that Ian could take action, just like he did at the hospital when I hugged Brant.

"Do you think we should..." I started, but stopped myself, too embarrassed to finish the rest. "Never mind. Let's sit down."

"No, wait," Brant stopped, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

I tilted my head ever so slightly, and the moment he glanced at my lips and back into my eyes, I knew our thoughts were synonymous. A kiss was just what we needed to do to get the right reaction. I nodded.

"Take your time," I mumbled, "make it painful for him to watch."

"I'll try my best," he smirked, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. I could imagine Ian's face already — his eyes occupied with surprise. I waited for Ian to shout something, _anything_ from across the pool as Brant leaned in closer, taking my advice to make it slow and lingering in case I heard something that would make us stop midway.

_Come on Ian_, I thought to myself. _Do something. Say something_.

I waited, but when nothing happened, Brant's lips collided with mine, soft and lax. I forced back a laugh, smiling against his lips. I had a feeling that Amanda would be undoubtably dejected by Ian. That, in itself, was pleasure enough.

"Hey."

My eyes shot open, pulling away from Brant's face and almost staggering back. If it weren't for the strong grip Brant had on me, I might have very well staggered back and fell into the pool.

The owner of the voice stood barely a foot away from us, his eyes laced with an emotion I couldn't detect. My heart did backflips and leaps.

"What are you two doing?" Ian asked.

* * *

A/N: WOAHH CLIFFHANGER! I'll update pretty soon, I believe. Leave me your thoughts and review! I'd love to get to 200 reviews before my next update, but it's not required. :)


	16. White Walls

I saw Amanda dashing towards us and many eyes seemed to glance our way. I wanted to wait and see if she'd fall on the slippery floors, but this was a conversation that excluded devil's advocates, so I had to talk fast before she made her way over.

"We're kissing," I informed, positioning my hand on Brant's bare chest. It was terribly exhausting not to have more than a glance at Ian's upper torso, but I got through with the mindset that I'd be able to look as long as I wanted if we got through with the plan.

"Do you have a problem with that, man?" Brant opposed, tightening his grip on me defensively. I internally gave Brant a high five, making a promise to myself that I'd offer to be his wing woman for a girl he sees after the wedding.

"I do, actually," Ian admitted as his voice lowered, "I know what you two are doing and it isn't working."

"Why are you here then?" I challenged softly. My determined demeanor was erased completely and replaced with the empty, painful feeling of heartache. The harmless butterflies in my stomach instantly turning into a substance that could very well have been hurled up. He was instantly stumbled by my questioned, opening and closing his mouth a repeated amount of times until Amanda came over. She swung her arm over Ian's neck, her body hugging his side. The sight of her truly sickened me. A migraine almost overtook me as I had to have the unfortunate opportunity to hear her high voice.

"What's going on, pookie?" Amanda asked, "why'd you leave me?"

"_Pookie_ was just starting to explain that," I informed, allowing the sass to barricade my voice, along with my stance. I didn't like the way I was so hostile, but my emotions were on high overdrive. I couldn't control it anymore, a handy power Amanda had over me.

All eyes had turned to Ian, waiting for an answer from the tongue-twisted man. He looked at his fiancee before taking a few glances our way, which caused me to raise my eyebrows in his actions of stalling. He wasn't going to say what he wanted to say, now that Amanda was around. It was like Ian was afraid that if he said the wrong thing, a massive flock of crows would come down and rip him into shreds. Why couldn't he just speak his mind? It was never a problem in the past.

"I was just telling Lucy and Brant here that I'm uncomfortable with the level of affection that they have displayed," Ian said sharply, keeping his tone strong and unwavering.

"And why's that?" I asked. "Why is _she_ able to kiss and touch you and not us?"

"In case you haven't noticed, we're going to be married in three days," Ian quipped. "We're going to be devoted to each other for the rest of our lives and that gives us an exit. Now, you and Brant? This is the first thing I've seen."

"_Plus_, this is my place," Amanda stated contemptuously, "I can kiss him if I want to kiss him. I could even kiss _Brant_ if I want to kiss him."

"I'd rather not die this second," Brant backed out, "your lips are huge and they could accidentally suck me inside while you're kissi—"

I could barely hear the end of his sentence from my outburst of laughter. For an amount of days, I couldn't remember a joke so insanely hilarious, one that made me want to cry from the hilarity. Amanda's eyes were fueled with rage, though I expected nothing from her but a sassy retort that couldn't hold a candle to Brant's joke. I was dead wrong. Just like the night she attempted to push me off the rooftop, I saw her lunge at me.

This time, I was too quick to let her get too close to my fatal end.

I snaked my arm away from Brant's waist, let the towel fall from my shoulder in a heap, and leaped to the right at the last second. I knew Amanda would've been too wrapped up in being the uncivil barbarian she was to notice that I gave her full access to the pool. She took an abrupt stop, but the soles of her shoes couldn't maintain a grasp on the wet tiled floors. She fell in sideways, her struggle to catch anything in midair failing. The sight of it made me laugh even harder, up until the point where her head bobbed above water, trying to gain her vision from beneath the chlorine-filled fluid.

_What are you doing?,_ a voice in my head floated around. My grin was nowhere to be found, not after I saw the pure shock and trauma from Amanda's eyes. Sure, she was evil and vindictive and cruel in every way imaginable. Sure, she held possession of the one person I desired the most. Sure, she would gasoline every inch of my house and light it up to send me to my death and never look back. I didn't want to become that person, but was that who she was turning me into?

Standing there at a higher power for a change made me feel... uncharacteristic. I _wasn't_ myself. In that moment, I felt like Amanda. Someone that would do anything to achieve what they wanted, even if that meant watching their opponents suffer. I knew Amanda was like that, but I refused to stoop down to her level. In all of this, if I couldn't have Ian, I wanted to walk away being true to myself.

I lowered myself and outstretched my hand for her to accept. She eyed my hand reluctantly, as though I had some disease that awaited to grasp and terminate her. Alas, she began her swim towards me, but something behind me caused me to stand up and turn around in a hurry.

"Watch it, dick!" Brant objected, shoving Ian and sending him lurching back a few inches. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"But I'm right, aren't I?" Ian questioned, a pernicious twinkle sparking his eyes. "Since you can't have the girl you want, you go for the next girl you can't have."

I looked behind my shoulder to see if Ashley or Shay was watching the scene unfold just like the rest of the occupants in the swimming pools and hot tubs, but to my surprise, they were nowhere to be found.

Turning my head back, I gasped and dashed for the two guys who were chest to chest, their eyes blared with rage and fury. My hands went straight to Brant's, trying to push him away and separate them with my petite body.

"Stop," I demanded shakily, "you're better than this, Brant. Don't hit him."

He didn't look down at me, but instead, kept his dark gaze on Ian. If I didn't know him well, I would've assumed he would have gone out of his way to trample me and beat the crap out of Ian. What did Ian say that provoked him so tremendously?

"What's going on?" I heard Ashley call out as a march of footsteps pattered against the floor. I assumed her companion was Shay. They had arrived just in time. If they hadn't, I wouldn't have known what to do. Behind Brant's back, I saw a swarm of people all fully in black march towards us.

"Security, get them!" I heard Amanda shriek. I frantically looked around, trying to take in all the action going on while putting all of my weight against Brant and pushing as hard as I could, even though he didn't budge, not even a centimeter. Before I knew it, I felt a pair of hands wrap around my arms and pull me, along with Brant, Shay, and Ashley. I winced at the sharp pain of fingernails being dig into my skin, but struggling would do much worse than keeping quiet. Clearly, the other three believed the same thing, since I heard nothing but a simple 'ow' from Ashley. We were dragged out and practically thrown against the carpeted floors by the security guards. I let out a low whimper, thumbing the nail marks on my arm as I stood up on my feet.

"You four are banned from the swim pool," one of the guards notified. "Two more strikes and you are banned from Columbia Rose."

"Is this supposed to be a baseball game?" Ashley snapped, "what, are you the coach or something?"

"We understand," I cut in, not wanting to cause anymore trouble for us. "But I left my towel and sunglasses inside and I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me go ahead and—"

"No," he interrupted as the remaining people began walking away to, presumably, handle other tasks. "What's gone is gone. Miss Haynes doesn't want you going in there. Now, do you need an escort or will you all behave yourselves?"

I spoke over Ashley's second outburst, making sure that I was louder than she was.

"No, thank you," I said, "we'll find it ourselves."

He dismissed himself, speed walking to catch up with the other guards. I swiveled on my heel, my stern look crossing Ashley and Shay, who were already beginning their walk the opposite direction. I sighed, unable to bring myself to look at Brant without showing him the clear disappointment. Quite frankly, I was tired with all of my encounters with Ian turning into flops.

"I really need this 'how to get someone to love you back' handbook," I muttered, my flip flops trudging against the floor for my first couple of steps. I kept my eyes nowhere else but down, feeling my eyes swell with a fresh batch of tears. If my life was based on a circle of skyscrapers, all of the towering buildings would have collapsed by now.

"Lucy," he whispered. I didn't _dare_ pick my head up. I wouldn't let him see how upset I really was. I swiftly pulled my bun out of its position, letting the brown locks flawlessly sweep down my shoulders and cover my face. As he said my name again, only a little louder and cautiously, I bit down on my tongue after swallowing down the gigantic lump in my throat. My stomach churned at the thought of Ian.

Brant's hand extended to my arm, gripping me tightly. I was forced to stop in my tracks, but I tried my best to wriggle my way out. Unfortunately, he was too strong.

"Brant, please," I whimpered. I looked up at him, only to see the same emotion reflecting in his eyes — misery, though I could see a twinge of pity emitting as well. I brought myself to stepping closer and wrapping my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to make the hug a little more comfortable.

_"I know what you two are doing and it isn't working."_

All I could hear was Ian's voice from above the splashing of the water, his words reverberating in my mind. Nothing about him changed from the guy I saw in the narrow pathway on set grounds. My doubts, the thoughts I tried so hard to push away, had proved me correct. How was it possible to go on with the plan after this? I would only be fooling myself if I thought I was capable enough to stop a wedding and prove to Ian in a matter of two days that Amanda was bad news.

I was trying _so_ hard to save him, but why was it so difficult? What was I overlooking? What was going on behind the scenes that I had no idea about? I thought back to the moment where him and I were on the phone and I had given him the choice of choosing Amanda or myself. When he responded with something other than my name, I should have been suspicious at that time. Ian admitted he'd choose me over any of his old friends from college, and for him to be unsure about whether he'd go against a woman he's known for barely half a year should have been the biggest red flag the earth has ever seen.

I hadn't even noticed the tears that fell from my face until Brant's back rubbing increased its tempo. It was such a trigger for me. I dug my face into his chest, afraid that if paparazzi were secretly watching us, they'd get a good glimpse of my glistening tears.

"I'm sorry," I blubbered after pulling away and spotting the disgusting looking blotch of tears that glazed his upper chest. I rapidly wiped them away with my wrist.

"Don't worry about it," he shrugged, "c'mon, Goose. Do you want to go shop and get your mind off of things? I'll even go with you."

"Can we just go back to my room?" I asked, "I don't want to do anything else for the rest of the night."

Brant nodded. I took a few steps ahead of him, purposely keeping my distance so I could continue silently lamenting.

* * *

_Two more days._ I prayed the next forty-eight hours would be as long as a year, not that I wanted to be stuck inside Columbia Rose, home to a glamorous rat. I expected the place to be unimaginably amazing, like a resort, when in reality, I couldn't think of anything that was the opposite. The pap continued to stick on my trail, and I hadn't even noticed them until Mario called me, informing me of all the candids that were being uploaded on the internet. It made me much self-conscious, something I absolutely despised doing. I felt like I was in my television show, being stalked and watched every second of everyday. I was only safe in my room when the windows were closed, and even then, I'd still feel shaken up.

Even with all the pictures and banners of Ian and Amanda, the reality that the guy I loved and my worst enemy were going to be married soon still hadn't sunken into my head. I still had clear marks on my arm from pinching myself too hard to decide actuality with a dream. They were a team, a force to be reckoned with in this battle of love and war. Why wouldn't he come back to my side? Was he too far into the dark side? Or was he being chained against his will?

I sighed, continuing my walk. I was barefoot, walking down the hall of the seventh floor. I was going in circles, continuing to contemplate what I wanted to do in the next day. I told my friends that they could come up with the plan all by themselves, not because my creativity failed me, but because I had a strange feeling that talking about anything Ian related with someone other than myself would cause me to lose my head.

I didn't care about people eyeing me strangely. Whether they knew me or not, we wouldn't see one another after a couple of days. I wasn't concerned about any of them, and they sure as hell weren't concerned about me, except for the mere fact that my unbrushed hair would get too close to them. It was a wide hallway anyways. They could move to the other side of the hall and I _still_ wouldn't care about their stares of disturbance.

The sound of an organ playing a certain wedding chime made my heart drown in my stomach. The floor above me was where the wedding rehearsal was taking place. Only the couple, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, the priest, the pianist, along with another group of people that were going to be a part of the wedding and not in the sitting crowds were allowed to be in the area. The stairs had guards at the top of the stairs so no interruptions would occur — something I had to figure out by myself.

As I kept my eyes on the freshly painted toenails Shay painted on the night before, I felt myself collide with another person. I wobbled back but clutched onto the wall as support, looking up to see who had carelessly decided to bump — or _push_ me. My eyes went wide, mimicking Ian's hazel-blue ones. There he was, looking absolutely impeccable in his tuxedo. I had noticed a slight scruff accumulate in the lower regions of his face, which looked awfully sexy on him.

A temper assembled within me. As I tried to swallow it down, the next words erupted from the angry side of me.

"I want to say something to you," I said, my voice shaky yet strong. I spewed out whatever I could before he could run off or try to counterattack me with something I'd get upset over. "And I don't care if you like it or not, I don't even care if you like me or not. I mean, I _do_ care, but— that's not the point! I just..."

I took a moment to take a deep breath, realizing my exasperation was taking over me. I was shaking from head to toe, but that wasn't stopping me from saying what I wanted. If I didn't know any better, I would think Ian seemed to be captivated in my stumbling words. Did I remind him of himself whenever he became tongue tied?

"I just want to tell you that you're making the biggest mistake of your life by marrying her," I said calmly, "and you might not want to hear that, but it's the truth. I get it, she's gorgeous and she has money and she's twice as famous as the two of us, but that doesn't mean anything. What _matters_ is the chemistry. Do you really want to be trapped in a marriage where you two have absolutely nothing in common? You guys aren't even the same _species_! She's half goddess, half devil."

Ian pursed his lips, but he said nothing. The color in his eyes were drained completely, along with the gold flakes that normally circled his pupils. When he made the conclusion to say or do nothing, I decided to continue.

"I still love you, Ian," I whispered, hoping the reminder would reach the compassionate side of him. "Even after all of this, I know that the real you is still in there, deep down inside. And until the second you kiss her and seal those vows, I'm not giving up."

Our eyes connected, but unlike all the other times, I couldn't find a signal of emotion.

"Lucy," he said cautiously. All he said was my name, but it was enough to make my heart bang against my chest. It had been so long since he said my name and it sounded amazing coming from his lips. I clenched my sweaty hands, which happened to be unusually cold. He opened his mouth to say something, but he froze. I rose my eyebrows and waited. He zoomed off, circling around me to get to the other side of the hallway. I let out an exhale of breath. I hadn't even taken my lack of breathing into consideration until I felt myself growing lightheaded.

Was that progress or had I made things worse? No... _surely_ I hadn't made things worse. He wasn't engulfed in outrage and indignation and he was near to going on a path to finally talking with me instead of yelling at me. I felt the corners of my lips dip upwards, but my contentment sunk away just as fast as it came. Progress or not, he wasn't easily willing to walk out of those doors and listen to my advice.

But I was finally able to confirm that he was redeemable.

* * *

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I adjusted my singular strap a little closer to my neck to prevent it from falling loose and letting the dress slide down completely. I wasn't an egocentric person, but I had to admit, the sleek dress looked absolutely amazing on me. It was a deep red color and made my lips, which was beautifully red and glossy, pop out. It hugged my waist tightly and became loose towards the bottom, a promising fit for my height. It was appealingly classy. I let out a deep sigh, thinking about how it was going to be the dress I was going to wear during my last and final attempt at destroying the wedding.

I heard the restroom door open and shut and waited for Troian to return from her bathroom break to stand next to me. Gracefully, she stood next to me, peering at herself in the large mirror.

"Are you ready for tonight?" she asked, cracking the pleasing silence.

"Not in the slightest," I admitted, shaking my head slightly. I didn't have the cascade of brown locks to accompany me with my head shake. It was done in a high, elegant bun I managed to construct.

I eyed Troian through the mirror, her beautiful figure standing tall in her fancy attire. She looked so strong, but I could only imagine the extent of her suffering. It made my problems look very minuscule.

"How are you?" I asked. We hadn't gotten the opportunity to talk one-on-one ever since the paparazzi incident.

"I could be better, obviously," Troian said, cracking a tiny smile. "But I could be worse too. I could still be in that house with him, forced to endure the same physical punishment and wonder why I'm even alive."

My eyes looked anywhere but her. For Troian to insinuate that she'd go to a point of no return cracked my dented heart a little more. I couldn't imagine a life without her. She was one of my best friends, my companion. She was someone I had a lot of fun with. We had grown much closer within the last few weeks, even if we rarely saw each other because of our careers and different schedules.

"Without you, I don't know what I would have done," she mumbled, keeping her gaze set on herself. I looked at her, a frown curving my lips.

"Troi," I spoke, bringing her into a hug and clutching her tightly. "You don't have to thank me. I know you would have done the same for me. I'm just doing what you've done in an alternative universe."

"I know," she said, sighing into my neck. For once, we were both almost the same height. She was wearing flats and I had squeezed into some tall pumps.

Hearing the front door knock and open, I turned to see who entered. The noisy four made their way inside. Ashley and Shay dashed over to us, their eyes opened in awe.

"You guys look perfect!" Ashley squealed.

"You're looking pretty hot yourself," I giggled. Behind them stood Brant and Keegan, their hands inside their dress pants. Both seemed to have identical suits, even though it was the traditional tuxedo most males wore to weddings.

"What time is it?" Troian asked.

"We left our rooms at five thirty," Shay said uncertainly as she looked at Ashley.

"Yeah, five thirty," Ashley confirmed, nodding.

"Are we going to talk about this huge idea?" Brant questioned, waving at the four of us.

"Can we talk about about something a little more important?" Ashley started, "the plan name."

"No!" Brant shouted, amusement coating his face as he rose a hand to motion he didn't want her to continue. "No plan naming from you. Whenever you do, the plan becomes jinxed. The last one screwed over, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"No _buts_, Ash!" he hushed, earning a grin from Keegan.

Troian, Shay, Ashley, and Keegan assembled onto the bed and ignored Brant, carrying onto naming their scheme. I, on the other hand, had a question that had been bothering me from the beginning that needed to be handled before anything else. Brant was just the guy that could answer it, if he was _willing_ to.

"Can I talk to you?" I questioned, lowering my voice so that no one else could hear. He nodded, leading me towards the farthest corner there was, away from the foursome.

"I just wanted to ask you something," I informed, my fingers instinctively fidgeting with each other. "You might not want to answer it, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

"Okay," Brant trailed off when I took a small pause to see if he'd intrude.

"Well," I started, "a couple days ago, at the pool, Ian said something that was kind of interesting." Brant's perplex gradually turned into knowledge. "He said 'you can't get what you want so you go for someone else' or something like that. I know those aren't the exact words, but I was just—"

"It's nothing," he cut me off, rolling his eyes. "Nothing _you_ have to worry about. He was just being a jackass."

"But what was he talking about?" I asked, my eyebrows crunching. I hated intruding into things that weren't my business, but I was uncontrollably curious and it was hard to suppress that side of me. I didn't have a guess in the world as to what it meant, and that was the reason I had to ask.

Brant bit his upper lip, his straight bottom teeth glistening. "He knows about how I feel. For Janel. But I think that _he_ thinks I'm into you now. I don't know if he said what he said because he was jealous or because he was angry, but he thinks I broke our promise."

"What promise?" I insisted.

"Don't you remember?" he questioned, "I told you at the hospital."

It took me a moment to recall, but my mind pulled out a memory where Brant and I were strolling down the hospital halls, chatting about Ian and his jealous outburst.

"Oh, the one where you promised you wouldn't go for me?" I repeated, bringing my hands from behind my back and down to my sides. He nodded in response. "I think we made things kinda worse," I admitted with sheepish smirk. "It wasn't our best idea."

"It wasn't _Ashley's_ best idea," Brant laughed, a little louder than our hushed tones.

"I heard my name!" the blonde girl called out. That was our cue to regroup with our friends to get the plan going.

I sighed as I took a seat on the edge of the bed, next to Shay. We were determined for the next few hours to unfold. If everything went according to the plot, Amanda and Ian weren't going to be known as Hollywood's couple, they'd be known as Hollywood's flop. I was going to do everything in my power to make sure that would happen.

_Game on_.

* * *

**A/N:** two updates in three days, woo! Thank you guys so much for the feedback, I didn't expect so much! 44 just for the last chapter? You guys are _amazing_, I love you lots! There should be two chapters left, if I'm not mistaken, which will consist of the wedding, the aftermath, and the epilogue. I'll try my hardest to get them done as fast as I can. Any suggestions for what you'd like to see happen? Leave me a review! See ya'll next time :)


	17. Here Comes The Bride

I felt like I belonged in a James Bond movie based on the way we walked down the halls determinedly, in rows. We were all separated into our resolved groups, each with a specific task that we had to do to put an abrupt stop to this wedding. I almost immediately regretted wearing heels, especially since my task was running around to see if I could find Ian and convince him not to go through with it by putting on the best show of my life. Running around a twenty-seven floor estate in five foot heels wasn't exactly what I was going for, but I didn't have any other choice.

As we all reached the end of the hallway with the sounds of shuffling feet and Ashley's hums to a familiar sounding song (which had just so happened to ruin the mystery themed vibe), there were three different directions to go — the left corridor, which led us to the stairs and up to the wedding; the right corridor, which was another way to get to the wedding, but through the back; and the metal door which unsurprisingly had a banner of Ian and Amanda flashing above. It was an emergency exit, the quickest way to leave the building.

I watched as Keegan tested the door to see if any alarms would be set off. As he swung it open, a sigh of relief escaped the most of us. Keegan's part of the scheme wouldn't be impotent.

"Should we go over our titles one more time?" Troian asked, the perfectionist side of her arising. She seemed nervous, though not as nervous as I was. I could barely see through the rings of anxiousness that blurred my vision.

"Do we have to?" Ashley murmured, "Everything's simple enough. You and I have to go trash whatever we find — _I_ call trashing the wedding dress if we find it. Brant and Lucy'll find Ian, who should be in the male's fitting room, Keegan will find the priest and get him on another track, and Shay will try to find her cousin an—"

"Can we not call her my cousin?" Shay intruded, her eyes rolling around at the word. "Just Amanda."

"Okay, you'll try and find _Amanda_," Ashley corrected herself before giving her best friend a hip bump. "Happy?"

"Sure," Shay said monotonously.

"If we're finished with our tasks, we can all meet up at the ceremony," Troian settled. We all nodded, seeing that was a good idea instead of roaming the halls and trying to find one another. Before I knew it, we were divided and heading to where we had to go. Shay took a turn to the left, along with Ashley and Troian, whilst Brant and I made our way to the right. Keegan took his route down the stairs.

"If this doesn't work..." I muttered under my breath, loud enough for Brant to hear.

"Don't think like that," Brant encouraged, "Everything will go fine. What's the worst that can happen?"

"You know, people say that right before the worst happens?" I grinned. He shook his head in response, a smirk wavering his lips.

His steps became wider and wider, enough for me to have to turn my speed-walking into jogging. I pulled my dress up with one hand, in case fate decided to go the opposite direction and have me trip like I normally did.

We took a quick turn, coming into contact with a few people of different ages and sizes lounging around the passageway. The grand spiraling staircase could be seen from where we stood, all the way at the end. Unlike all the other stairs in the mansion, this one was beautifully decorated. I could see the minuscule details as we weaved our way through. Pale Azalea flowers that hung on white vines were entangled on the railings, emitting a sweet and natural smell. The marble stoned floors had faded pink petals that sprinkled their way from top to bottom.

"Wow," I gasped at the sight as we trampled our way up.

The sight, the smells, _everything_ seemed to be much more different than the floor below. Many people were scattered around the long hallway, chitchatting to others. The voices seemed to bounce off from the high ceiling, making a more considerable echo. I knew that the opening of the wedding was behind the brown double doors in the center of the wall. Tables had been lined up at the end. Food and beverages of all sorts were stacked high. It was tempting to go over to, and Brant seemed to have the same thoughts in that department as he began to travel to a table; one that had a fountain in the midst of the rest of the food, a brown substance pouring from the top.

"Brant, no!" I took a grip of his arm before he could get any farther, digging my heels into the floor to put more weight on.

"Lucy, please," he said, his eyes beginning to enlarge, "It's a _chocolate fountain_."

"I don't care!" I exclaimed, "we have to go. I saw a few of Ian's friends go the other way and I think they're some of the groomsmen, so we have to get to that room! Aren't you supposed to be on that meat diet to gain some muscle weight or something?"

"I don't think you heard me correctly," he started, trying to pull away from my tightened clasp, "I said, 'chocolate fountain.' Do you hear me?"

"Yes, chocolate fountain, I get it," I stated, "It'll be there for you when you come back."

He seemed to take that thought into consideration. He looked at me and the fountain repeatedly before letting out a sigh and walking towards the direction I instructed. I didn't let go of his arm until the rest of the tables passed us, in fear that he'd find another entree that happened to be much more delightful than a chocolate fountain, such as a giant Hershey bar that outstretched to the tall ceiling or a cake with his face on it. He picked up a handful of chips when I hadn't noticed. I could hear the chomping when we advanced farther from the blaring crowds.

"Why didn't you eat before we did this?" I asked, slightly outraged.

"You think Ash and Shay let me?" he pointed out, "they made me go dress shopping with them since breakfast, even after they chose their outfits before coming here. The only think I had to eat today was half a pretzel dipped in some melted cheese and a jug of tap water."

I shrugged at the explanation, understanding of how hungry he could get. I, on the other hand, barely had anything to eat and still seemed to have a closed appetite. It was safe to say that the demolition of the wedding brought me a hot plate of the jitters.

We rounded another corner, but took an instantaneous halt.

"There it is," I rasped. I could see a collection of men in suits with light pink handkerchiefs in the vest pocket located on their chests. Behind them was a closed door.

"How are we going to get past them?" Brant pondered, gnawing at the inside of his cheeks. I gently scratched an itch on my arm, thinking of ways we could get through.

"Why don't we just ask?" I shrugged, "It's worth a shot."

I was surprised by the inattentiveness coming from the men regarding my loud, clacking heels against the thin floors, but they noticed me once I took my last couple of steps towards them. Their expressions were mild, some even alert. Most of their smiles died down.

"The wedding's that way," one of the guys pointed. He looked familiar to me. I concluded he was most likely in one of the scrapbooks Ian showed me before.

"Oh, I know," I started, "I was looking for Ian before the ceremony starts. I have to talk to him."

"Whatever it is, you're going to have to wait until after the wedding," someone else said. "There's a wedding party after, on the floor below. He'll be there."

"It's really urgent," I insisted. "Like, a life or death matter."

They all waved me off, turning back into their conversations as if I had evaporated into thin air. My mouth went agape for a moment as I looked at Brant, feeling completely ridiculed. He shook his head, his eyes fluttering in the process.

"Come on, let's just go," he suggested, "I think I know another way in."

Just when my hopes began settling in the dusk, he found a way to bring it back up to high spirits. A small smile formed on my face as I followed him back into the direction we came from — into the wide corridor filled with people and food and down the steps. Instead of going ahead towards the next flight of stairs, we took a turn, which led us to an empty hall.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" I questioned, becoming confused to the excessive amount of doors on the walls.

"Not even a little," he affirmed. I stopped in my tracks, almost glaring at the taller being.

"Then why are we going this way?" I asked, my grip from my dress loosening. Whatever he was doing, it wasn't funny or productive in the least bit.

"I just thought that we could find some backdoor or some window to that room," he said, once after turning around to look at me. "It's our only chance."

I examined him, seeing whether he was only kidding or not. I thought about going back and giving it another shot with the groomsmen, but with a different approach, but it would be useless. I stood there, mentally reprimanding myself for not going over every minuscule detail. I hadn't realized exactly how difficult it would be to locate one guy in a crowd of hundreds, especially in a gigantic mansion.

I began pacing within the hall, crossing my arms and placing my pointer finger against my ruby red lips. I kept my gaze down onto the floor. Although I was supposed to be thinking about the whereabouts of Ian, my mind wandered off to what the wedding would be like if it went through. It was _still_ a possibility, more so since Brant and I couldn't handle such an easy task and screw things up.

I felt myself critically panicking at my train of thoughts. Brant's consistent tapping wasn't helping in the least; it reminded me of a ticking clock, prompting that I only had so much time. Inconvenient tears sprung in my eyes. It wasn't the time to cry, but I couldn't help it.

"Lucy," Brant slowly approached, "breathe. Hey, look at me! _Breathe_."

My tightly shut eyes opened, seeing his anxious face close to mine. His arms latched onto my shoulders, creating small, smoothing circles. Something seemed to catch his eye as he looked over my shoulder. I took the opportunity to wipe away my tears, being greatly cautious of my heavily lined eye makeup.

"Who are you guys?" I heard Brant say. I looked up at him, confused for a second at his bewildered expression. Before I could turn back, I felt something wet and terrible-smelling covering my mouth and my nose ever so fiercely.

It all happened fast, almost too fast for me to recall. I felt myself being pulled down to the ground, the item against my lower face being held firmly in place. I tried to struggle, scratching at whoever was behind me and tugging on the hands that held me captive. Unfortunately, detecting by the strength, I knew it was a man holding me down. I could barely see what was in front of me. Strangely, the lights in the hall were out and all I could see were silhouettes; _several_ silhouettes. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the sound of Brant's grunting, a sign that he, too, was in the same position as me, being held against his will.

* * *

As soon as I slipped into consciousness once again, my eyes shot open almost immediately. I noticed many different things all at once. For one, I was sitting on a chair and my hands were slipped behind it. As I tried to pull my hands free, I felt something restrict against my wrist, burning me in the process. My legs were the same way. Once after concluding it was rope, I snapped into panic mode.

I was in a simple looking room, one that was much smaller than the rest of the rooms in the house. The walls were pastel white with flower prints near the edges. Two pure white couches were lined up, in which both were distanced yet symmetrical.

Something in specific frightened me. It wasn't the sounds and vibrations of Brant, who sounded as if he was in the same predicament as I was. No, it was the lady that I saw through the glass window, talking with another unfamiliar male in black, similar to the one that dragged me out of the pool room the other day.

"Lucy?" Brant whispered, confirming my thoughts that it was him behind me. Was he tied up as well? I couldn't turn my head far enough to see.

"What's going on?" I asked with the same quiet tone as his, shaky and weak.

"I think that fucking bitch got her minions to capture us," he theorized.

As if on cue, the woman whom I saw on every single banner in every single hallway opened the door and stepped in with at least five or six black-clothed individuals following with. She seemed to be in undergarments, ones that were much too peculiar to wear outdoors but ordinary enough to wear in a location like Columbia Rose, especially with her white heels topping it all off. As she snapped her long manicured fingers, one of the males stepped over to us, pulling Brant over so that he wasn't behind me, he was next to me. I stifled a gasp at the sight of a long cut on his neck, one that I hadn't seen until now. It had to be recent, possibly what one of the guards did.

"What the fuck do you want?" Brant demanded, his expression growing from angry to furious in a split second as he saw the devious smirk plastered against Amanda's face.

"I think I've made it very clear what I want from you _specifically_," Amanda winked, blowing an exaggerated kiss soon after. "Maybe after the wedding or something. Ian won't care."

I was so disgusted by the way she said that. Just by being in her presence, I felt beyond filthy. Based on the way Brant kept his angered expression consistent, I knew that his very first impression of her had been completely wiped away. Before, he was almost ready to jump her bones — and _would have_ if she wasn't a taken woman. Now, he looked at her the same way I did. It showed that he was just as much of a good friend as I expected, if not more.

"Is that the reason I'm here as well?" I asked. "Because you want to leave your fiancee, who you're _marrying_ in an hour, to smooch with Brant?"

She shrugged, flipping her straight dark hair away from her shoulders. "Something like that."

"Why am I here?" I contended. My sarcasm was clearly not getting through to her, so I'd have to use a different approach — demands.

"Are you really asking me that?" she retorted. "Are you seriously wondering why I'm keeping you here? I know you're not going to my wedding to support your enemy and the guy you supposedly 'love.' And I'd rather wear all green for the rest of my life than have you do that."

"Maybe you should wear all green," I conveyed. "It'll bring out the green stuff stuck in your teeth."

She merely smiled at my comment, gazing at me. Her amused expression gradually turned into a look of hatred.

"Hilarious how you think you have the upper hand," she stated. "But once I marry Ian, you're done for. Maybe I'll even pay my way onto your show as _Ezra's_ new love interest. And later, I'll get make sure that you're no longer on Pretty Little Liars, much less any other show in Los Angeles."

I was unable to let the frown from my face become invisible. I was too distraught by her words. Although I doubted the possibility that she would go to an extent to completely ruin my life, I knew she was one hundred percent capable of it.

"Why?" I asked. "What do you have against me, Amanda? Since day one, you've never liked me. What have I done to you that's made you hate me so much?"

She crossed her arms, leaning her weight onto one leg. She seemed to be contemplating something, possibly the reasoning of my question. "It should be pretty obvious, but I've forgotten that you're as stupid as a newborn child, so I'll _tell_ you."

Amanda continued ogling me, making feel uncomfortable against her hardened stare. I swallowed the lump in my throat, shifting around in my chair but wincing when the rope stung me.

"Well?" I repeated. "Are you going to tell me why? I mean, really. You might say it's obvious, but it's not. Your life is more than satisfying. You have looks, you have money, you ha—"

"I'm _jealous_ of you!" she practically screamed. Her eyes grew instantly, looking like they would roll out of their sockets if she widened them any farther. "Okay?"

My eyes rose in disbelief. For a moment, I tried finding any sign of amusement or anything fictitious that might have been hidden in the vertex of her lips or a sparkle in her eyes. All I saw was a fuming animosity that could only be held for me. I could barely register her words as she started her interestingly enticing speech.

"How would you feel if you had everyone doubting your moves?" she questioned, the rage in her voice melting into determination. "What would you do if one small step could not only bring your reputation down to becoming hated, but soon after, being a nobody? Ever since that first year we met each other at that first day of shooting, I never liked you. They were going to give you the role, did you know that? It took a lot of persuasion coming from my side to get them to give you that baby sister role and for me to have the lead."

"I feel like I'm not supposed to be surprised that you bribed your way to a main role," I stated, "But, surprisingly, I am."

"Get your facts straight, moron," Amanda snapped, rolling her eyes in the process. "I didn't need to bribe them. I was persuasive enough, just by my using my amazing talent of words. I told them that if they'd give me the role instead of giving it to you, there would be a higher chance that ratings would go up and critics would be less harsh because of my looks. I was a much hotter, younger Megan Fox and you looked like someone that would be in the cast of Barney and Friends. So, last second, they switched the roles and gave you the small part instead of the lead."

I scoffed, hiding my devastation. I remembered wanting that role so bad, and the eagerness coming from the casting directors made me feel so confident that I called all of my close family to tell them about it.

"So, what does the fact that you sabotaged my possible first lead role have to do with holding us hostage here?" I asked.

"Would you calm down? I'm getting there," she snarled. "Ever since that, I overheard from Marley, one of the producers, that I was way too flashy for the role and that it was a mistake to cast me, but it was too late. I was already on all of the main promotion posters and I was named to be in the main cast. They ended up talking on several occasions that you would have been perfect for it. I hated how everyone was so nice to you. They treated you kindly, but they were only kissing ass with me."

"That's a straight up lie," I countered. "How could you say that when I remember going on set and getting so many glares from everyone because of you? Which was ironic, because you were always so nice to me even though you were the one carrying the knife."

"All of that happened a little later, when I told all the girls what you said about them," she told me.

"But I never said anything about them."

"I know."

She chuckled a little, her eyes locating elsewhere. She seemed to be recollection one of her prized moments, also known as my worst moments. I couldn't help wondering if she was thinking about the time she left me stranded and drunk at that nightclub.

"Anyways, I decided to go ahead and audition for a few more roles. I got them all, but I declined because along the way I found my passion: journalism. And I knew exactly how to become successful with it. Acting and starring in movies had its definite pros, and as you know, connections in Hollywood are easy to obtain when you're... _me. _I went to college for a short two years, got a degree, and started up. At this point, you were still on the rise of fame, but you weren't all that. I, on the other hand, didn't even have to start at the bottom. People always liked what they saw from me. I chose to start off a little small to grow a fanbase. That didn't take too long."

I let out my voluntary yawn, showing her that was getting fully bored of her useless words. It had to be a habit for her to talk about herself since she did it all the time, but I didn't have the capability to hold off a migraine for long and she didn't have much time until she had to get ready for her precious wedding.

She continued chatting about herself, talking about her transition to TMZ and the name she had grown for herself.

"But when I heard about you having the potential to become this big star after you announced your idea for country, I didn't pay too much mind until my manager told me that you could possibly become more than a big star in a few years, if you kept your reputation up. Even bigger than me. She told me a few pointers that would hurt me and help you big time, such as types of moves, connected management... a certain love interest. So it was time for me to make some changes in my life... and in _your life."_

I eyed her carefully, waiting for her to continue explaining. The sudden change in her pacing step gave me an insight that we were heading to the part I knew would be unbearable for me to listen to.

"I met Ian at the Quarry," she proceeded, a small smile crossing her face. I saw a small with authenticity, which brought envy to course through my veins. I had never wanted their 'love' to be so fake as I did in that moment. "I waited for him to go inside. He was at Subway, ordering a sandwich. I used that method where you bump into someone. We hit it off right away. So, I offered him my number. I think he knew who I was, but he never said anything about it. That is, until I had to progress to the next step of my plan."

_A plan_. Of course. She was scheming this entire thing. She didn't love him, which angered me because she was playing with Ian but it also made me elated, for if it truly _was_ love, it was merely one-sided. I bit the bottom of my lip, disregarding the bitter taste of lipstick.

"What was the next part?" Brant spoke up. I turned my head, almost forgetting he was even there. He seemed just as intrigued as I was, if not more.

"I'm not telling you," she shook her head, "I'm not telling either of you. Because, if there's a chance that something messes up, it will be my wild card. Not my last wild card, 'cause I have a lot up my sleeve."

She progressed towards us, her white heels bringing out the best in her long legs. I didn't see seduction for Brant laced in her steps, but more... _enmity._ She leaned down so that her long stature became equivalent to ours.

"You fools thought you were going to stop me. But it's over. _Over,_" she said with a low tone, which was incredibly surprising for the high level of her voice. Her head turned from Brant to me. "And it's especially over for you. You might as well change your name from Lucy _Hale_ to Lucy _Fail_, because that's what your career is going to be once me and my team are done with you."

Amanda stood up, gave us a stare down, and sauntered out of the room. Once she left, I turned to Brant, opening my mouth to say something. But by the time I could get one word out, a pile of guards came inside, situating themselves inside. I heard the click of a door clicking locked and closed my eyes, a wave of defeat washing over me. I didn't move my legs or my arms, knowing that if I made one more wrong move, I'd be dealing with tons of scars.

After what seemed like an eternity, I opened my eyes, seeing each and every guard staring at us with maximum intensity. I looked at Brant, who simultaneously angled his head to look at me.

"You need to go to—"

"Hey!" one of the guards said. "No whispering. No verbal contact."

"I just want to kiss my girlfriend, is that too much to ask?" Brant shouted back.

"That didn't look like kissing," the man grunted.

Brant rolled his eyes before looking at me, leaning in but barely grazing my lips. I closed my eyes, continuing the illusion.

"Bathroom. Behind us."

I registered his words into my mind as he gave me a dramatic kiss, giving the guards a show, which embarrassed me somewhat. At least he got to tell me what he had to.

Going off of what he said, I presumed there was a bathroom behind us and that I had to go inside. But what was the point? The escape was the door in front of us, not behind us.

"I have to use the ladies' room," I enunciated thoroughly. All of the guards stared at me but said nothing. After feeling like I was being stared down, I kept my eyes to the ground, feeling at unease. "So, can I?"

"Go quick," one of them demanded. A few of them stood up, situating themselves at the front door while another came forward to untie me. I winced at how rough he was going but didn't say a word, only because there was a chance they'd revoke my authorization. I looked at Brant, who still had his eye on me, before advancing to the bathroom door. As I locked it behind me, someone knocked, followed by a gruff voice.

"Don't lock it."

I let out a sigh, audible enough for whoever was at the door to hear, but obliged anyways. Turning my back, I almost gasped at the sight. It was a giant bathroom with a fancy tub, two sinks side by side, a separate shower towards the side, and a _window_. I grinned maniacally. I had never been so happy to see a window in my life. There was even a digital clock that seemed to be installed in the wall. It said 05:57, which meant I had a good ten minutes before they sealed their marriage with a kiss.

Slowly, I took off my heels and held them with two fingers. The floors were colder than ice, but as I stepped over to stand on top of the toilet seat with both feet on either side, I noticed it was very warm. My eyes scrunched at the peculiarity.

The window was thin, too thin for one of the guards to make it through, but thin enough for a petite girl like myself to wiggle my way into. I was afraid of what would meet me on the other side. Would I have to jump? And if so, how far? I was hoping for a chance that I wouldn't be on the highest floor with nothing but a ledge to go by. Ever since that day with Amanda and the rooftop, my existent fear for heights completely elevated, making me too scared to even go rock climbing.

The squeakiness of the window caught me off guard. I took my dear time lifting it up with minimum sound. My head poked out and a stream of relief coursed through my anxiety filled veins. We were on the second floor and there was a tree right across from me. I was an expert in climbing trees. In that moment, I thanked my father for teaching me how to get up and down one. Beyond that, there were stacks of shrubs to break my fall, in the event that I lost my step. I was extremely lucky for the turn of events.

I flushed the toilet once to keep up the misconception that I was actually using the bathroom to cause less suspicion. Cautiously, I ducked my head to get my whole body through, putting the red heels on the ledge right before. I picked them up as soon as I situated myself in the best way possibly and threw them to the ground. I winced, realizing that they weren't just any pair of heels, they were my favorite Jimmy Choo ones, which costed more than I made in the first eighteen years of my life. I shook my head, knowing that there were more important matters at hand. With one pitiful look at the beautiful shoes, I positioned myself closer to the tree.

_'You can't be scared of the tree_,' I heard my father's voice from within my head, thinking back to the first day he showed me. Sure, the tree was far from reach, but I remembered a risky trick I also learned from my dad. I slipped the lower part of my dress as far up as I could so my legs and thighs had more exposure for me to have a better handle on the branches. Slowly, I shifted myself off of the ledge, using all of my arm power to sustain myself on rim. As I stared back down at the amount of distance that separated myself from the ground, I refused to let panic take over me again.

Looking back at the tree, I counted to three in my head and leaped for the branch I believed to look like it would carry the most weight _and_ wouldn't break off. I grinned wildly at my success. _I made it_. I used another branch underneath me to support the rest of me, mostly because my arms were already ridiculously tired. I shifted myself to the root of the tree and made my way down, branch by branch. The exhilarating feeling, the pounding in my chest, it was all so much.

_Just_ when I was going to put my defenses down, I found a way to get back up and continue the battle. Amanda couldn't win. I couldn't let her. She would ruin Ian's life for good, and I didn't care if Ian would hate me after the destroying of the wedding. Somewhere underneath was the guy with the boyish smile, waiting for me to save him from his misery. I was going to save _that_ guy, not the one he became.

As soon as I hit the ground, I let out a squeal of excitement. I looked back up, the open window exposing how I got out. It didn't matter anyways. The guards seemed like morons, so it would take them a while to understand what I truly did. I bit my lip, promising to return for Brant afterwards.

Picking up my Jimmy Choos, I wasted no time to have a five second reunion with them before racing off to find the front of the building. I took a speedy turn and saw the parking lot, which gave me the insight that the front door wasn't too far. I dashed off, doing my best to ignore the sandy gravel that pierced my feet. I took a dash into the grass and entered in a hurry. The quietness of the main lobby startled me for a moment. No one, not even people at the front desk, was there.

I heard footsteps, presumably a woman based on the sound of heels. Before I was able to duck and hide, I saw the behind of someone familiar.

"Shay!" I called out desperately, zooming to the woman. She turned herself at the sound of her voice, gasping right after and zooming to me. I took the time to catch my breath, suddenly becoming winded.

"What's going on?" she asked, "Did you and Brant get to Ian? Where's Brant? Why are your shoes off? ...and why do you smell like wet bark?"

"Long story," was all I could get out between breaths. I hunched over, scolding myself for my pause on going to the gym. I made a self reminder that it would be one of the first things I'd do once I got back to Los Angeles.

"Well, we need to go this second," she demanded, adjusting the lower part of my dress. "The ceremony's already started and it's only a matter of time. You need to get in there and stop it."

"Let's go then," I swallowed, taking in my last dramatic breath of oxygen. We headed towards the stairs, trying our best to go as fast as we could in our heels. I ran out of breath once again by the time we hit the fourth floor. The staircases became longer and longer as we went up, but we finally reached the sixth floor. I heard a man's voice, presumably the priest judging by the fact that it was the only voice that I could hear from a mile away.

"Come on!" Shay pulled on my arm as I took my time to reach the door, which was only ten steps away. She seemed just as out of breath by the way her chest heaved, but she didn't let it show through her facial expression. I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, my heart pounded even more than before at the particular words.

"...to, you may speak now or forever hold your peace."

My eyes went open at the words. I took my final steps and dashed towards the opened door, seeing Amanda in a wedding dress with Ian standing in front of her, along with the groomsmen, bridesmaids, and audience.

"I object!" I shouted from the top of my lungs.

* * *

**IMPORTANT A/N**: Honestly, this was probably my favorite chapter I've written thus far! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank ya'll for the support, so very much. Onto more crucial things, I saw a couple of reviews that caught my eye and I thought it over, so I was wondering if you wanted me to continue this story instead of ending it in the next chapter or just end it? I'd definitely want to continue this because I treasure this story a lot and I have tons of ideas left, so it wouldn't be drama-free or fluffy through out, you know? Just tell me how you feel by reviewing or PMing me or whatever you prefer! If I get at least seven-ten people saying they'd like me to continue, then I'll continue. Happy PLL day! See ya'll later :) xo


	18. The End of the Beginning

**A/N: Hey, hey! So, I've decided that I'm going to continue on with this story! The amount of feedback to it is absolutely astounding to me and I love you guys so freaking much for it, so thank you thank you! I know I haven't updated lately, but to make it up to you guys, I'll tell you that I've already gotten 20 chapters outlined, so unless I update every single day (which, unfortunately I can't, due to the length of each chapter) this story should be here for a pretty long time. Just a heads up, the beginning of this chapter was one of the most cutest yet cheesiest/cliche things I've written so far and I'm absolutely in love with it and I hope you guys love it too! Also, if anyone catches the Ezria reference/scene I added into this chapter, feel free to review it. I'd like to see if anyone caught it. Without further ado, here's chapter 18! Enjoy, lovelies :) xo**

* * *

Normally, I would have ran away from the amount of eyes on me, but all I could see was Amanda and Ian staring back at me. I tried to send apologetic signals to Ian, especially because I couldn't pick up his expression. He looked calm, with the exception of his slightly widened eyes. It took me slightly aback.

"I object as well."

I turned my head to the voice, seeing Troian standing up from her seat in the middle.

"I object too."

I watched as Ashley stood up next to Troian, intertwining her fingers together and placing them in front of her. They looked at me, waiting for my next move like the rest of the crowd.

"Ignore her!" Amanda shouted, clearly fired up. Her surprised expression was replaced with anger. She, palpably, wasn't expecting me to be here at all. In fact, I would bet she had me pictured in her head all tied up while she stated her wedding vows.

"Stop, Amanda," I declared with high intensity. I took a step, and another, each one tense and stiffened. I heard harsh whispers pictures beneath the sound of cameras clicking away, but neither could compare to the pounding of my heartbeat. I could hear it in my ears as blood rushed to my head. I was waiting for some sort of adrenaline to kick in, but nothing near the sorts popped up.

"I'm sorry, Ian," I started, letting out what would rid me from too much guilt. "I can't let you get married to her because she doesn't love you. Not the way I do. It's not fair to you. You deserve way more than being with her. Don't let her fool you into doing something you'll look back and regret. Do you _really _want to get married to her?"

"Of course he wants to get married to me," I heard Amanda insist. I had no care for her opinion. My eyes were directed on the man that could take his doomed fate and turn it into something better, something worth living for. He could still do it. He had a chance, and I was handing it to him on a shiny, silver platter.

By that point, I was right on the edge of the stairs, a few feet away from the couple. I wouldn't go any further, in hopes that Ian would fill the gap and come down the steps. Their hands, which had once been encased in one another's, had dropped to their sides whereas _my_ hands were filled with panic-induced perspiration. I saw it, in his eyes. I saw _him_. That guy that I spent countless hours making out with for our characters on the show; the guy that had innumerable conversations, both meaningless and significant; the guy that cracked so many lame jokes that the only funny part was the fact that _he_ believed he was funny. He was arising beneath the rubble that Amanda molded him into. I just needed a few more things to say to push him off the edge.

"Listen to me," I instructed, purposely lowering my voice so the quantity of my shakiness wouldn't be revealed. "You don't want to be trapped in a one-sided relationship. You _know_ this. I know you know this. What happened on the rooftop is a prime example of the things she's done to people, and once you two seal the deal, she's going to take over every single part of your life. You've known her for, what, six months? Are you really going to give everything up for her? Do you really believe that she'll be there with you for better or for worse the way you'll be there for her?"

My eyes pleaded him to listen to me, for once. I hoped he understood that this was for his own benefit, not only for mine. I didn't want to see Amanda rob him of his talent and make him a robotic trophy husband, forcing him into doing things she didn't want him to do. He had a cluster of opportunities and she'd discredit them all by tarnishing his credit so he would fill all of her selfish needs. I knew she would do it, or a scenario around that, where Ian would feel trapped.

I didn't want to see him suffer. I didn't want him to look back at the last moments of his wedding and wonder why he didn't take the route out. I didn't want him thinking about his mistake while he stood on the red carpet and carried the back of Amanda's dress like she asked. What good would it do to his 'no regrets' motto? What more proof did he need in seeing that evil took a voluptuous form in the woman he was standing next to?

"I hereby declare this wedding aborted," announced the priest, who dismissed himself after his words, causing the rest of the crowd to rise from their seats. I could hear an immense amount of shuffling, an assembly of panicked voices, and a pause in the organ music, but nothing behind me could distract me from the locked gaze between Ian and I.

Amanda's arm outstretched, taking Ian's dangling hand in one and holding up her enchanting wedding dress in the other. Her brown eyes withheld a fire, something I had seen one too many times. Before, it would have frightened me. Now, it didn't bother me in the slightest. She could do whatever she wanted— push me, threaten me, bring my career and my reputation so low that it would surpass the deepest and darkest holes of Hell, but at least she wouldn't be forcing him into a meaningless commitment.

"Come on, Ian," she growled, taking her steps down with Ian's hand fastened in hers. I waited for them to pass me, for everyone to file out and leave me standing in the place where I created my own downfall.

To my surprise, Ian jerked his hand away before Amanda could pull him down the stairs. I could _barely_ process that in my mind, so when he promptly dashed forward, secured the sides of my face with his strained yet tender hands and assertively kissed me, I couldn't register anything into my mind. I froze completely, almost reluctant to kiss him back. I heard gasps come from every direction— _especially_ from the woman standing next to us. But no one was more shocked than I was.

Ian, without releasing his grip on my face, pulled his face away from mine. His tall stature was still hunched over, searching my face. His furrowed brows made his glistening face appear confused. Noticing the circumstances, I could see why he _was_ a bit baffled. There I was, cutting off the ties to their marriage, and I was _reluctant_ in kissing him back?

I couldn't control the sudden adrenaline as I straightened my spine and tilted my head upwards to finish what we had started. My heart was pounding so ferociously that my entire body quivered along with the heartbeats. I could feel his lips smiling against mine, leading me to do the same. Before we knew it, we were both laughing in our joy and content.

He was unchained and broken free. I knew it by the reprieved sparkle that scintillated in his hazel-blue eyes. I looked to the left of me to see Amanda, but she wasn't there. My enormous smile wavered as I looked around me to see where she had gone. She was nowhere to be found.

"We have a lot to talk about," Ian affirmed, letting his hands fall from my face and intertwining them with my fingers. It was the first time in a long time that he had spoken to me with such sincerity. It made me realize that it was over. It was all over.

"That's an understatement," I commented as he led me down the aisle and through hundreds of people that were all trying to get out through the double doors. My blush couldn't be contained as I saw Troian, Ashley, and Shay standing side-by-side with the biggest smiles on their faces. It was an immense indication that I actually did it. The one thing that had me stressed to tears had come to be successful.

With a deep breath, I gripped my clasp on Ian's hands and let my heels take me wherever he led me onto.

* * *

"Find him," I sighed through the phone, clasping it against my face with both hands before letting one travel up my head, where a towel had been wrapped around my damp hair. It was tightly secured and fastened, much like the fortunate events that led on from my entrance of the wedding.

"Do you have any clue where he is?" Keegan asked. Something shuffled harshly on the other line and abruptly stopped, leading me to believe he merely adjusted the phone to his liking. I could hear a few other voices in the background, barely distinguishing Ashley shriek out profanity.

"Check some doors on the second or third floor," I suggested, gnawing on my lower lip. I thought about how I descended down the tall tree and how the ground extended a level of twenty, maybe thirty feet from the window. I hoped and prayed that Amanda didn't take things too far and switch Brant out of the room.

I heard the door behind me swing open. Turning my body, I saw Ian emerge from the steaming bathroom in an ivory-colored sheepskin robe. His face coruscated as water trickled down from his drenched hair to the sides of his face. The sight was too much for me to absorb.

"Call me back when you've searched around," I told him before ending the call without hesitation. I flung the phone on the bed across from me and involuntarily chuckled, crossing my arms. He headed into the closet on the other side of the room, giving me an opportunity to examine the room.

Everything in the room was white: the feathery bedspread beneath the headboard, the plush lamps on the nightstand, the walls, and the cushioned carpet. It made my skin slightly more ghostly looking.

We were inside of a private room, one door down from the groomsmen's hotspot. I was no longer in my red dress and heels, but instead, had taken a shower to get rid of the smell of trees and dirt that emitted a foul stench on my clothes. Ian had let me borrow an oversized, skin tight, long-sleeved shirt. I remembered a little trick Shay had taught me— so I put on the shirt, which extended just above my knees, and instead of putting on the sleeves, I wrapped them around my neck and tied it back like a sleeveless halter dress. It looked somewhat sleazy, but it was all that I had.

Ian turned around with a dark blue towel in his hand, which looked immensely extravagant in such a plain room like the one we stood in, and pressed it against his soaked hair. We simultaneously made our way to the bed and sat side-by-side, trying to accumulate the words to say. The pleasant noseful of Irish Spring soap emanated him. I was almost lost in the delightful ambiance of it, but I knew it wasn't the time for physical interaction. It was time for answers.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," I chuckled, licking my bare lips. It was rid of the blazing red lipstick I had put on to match the rest of my outfit, along with the rest of my makeup. I knew that I was exposed of the dark shadows underneath my eyes, the evidence of my sleepless nights and the abundance of plentiful lamentation seeping through. He seemed to be in the same state as I was: exhausted yet appeased. The only difference was that he was completely rid of humiliating undereye bags.

"I know," he sighed, a tense smile appearing on his face. I could tell that he was apprehensive by how stiffened he was. I was too, but the shower I took relaxed my muscles greatly. "Where should I start, Goose?"

The nickname _itself_ was enough to make me happy. Still, I had to keep a cool front. If there was anything I learned from the experience, it was that I had to make sure I didn't come off desperate and forlorn. _  
_

"Start off by why you were ignoring me this whole time," I proposed, tilting my head slightly. My head felt twice as heavy because of the towel, so I reached up and pulled it down. My damp brown hair torrented down, stopping at my lower chest. The thick mess clouded my face. As I pushed the stringy tresses back, I stared at Ian for a response. He positioned himself so that he faced me and took a theatrical breath of air.

"After that night," he began, "on the rooftop, Amanda was so furious. She wanted me to take her straight to her house instead of staying at my place like we always did. The next morning, she came over and she told me that if I talked to you or came into contact with you or even _looked_ at you, the deal would be off."

My lips parted slightly, taking in the information. "What deal?"

He took in the bottom of his lip in between his teeth, nibbling away until he had the courage to speak up again. "There's a reason we were getting married so soon. She told me she knew something about my mother's car accident that the police had been covering up. She said that it _wasn't_ an accident. It was a hit and run. And she said she knew who the person was and that they intentionally did it because of her connection to me."

I looked at him, flabbergasted with everything he said. Nothing in it made sense to me, and it was barely the beginning of the tale.

"Wait," I stopped him, my left hand up as a signal for him to halt. "You're... I don't get it. How would she know any of that? And why would the police cover up something so important? Who was the person that hit your mom's car?"

He rose his hand to the back of his neck, seemingly overwhelmed by the amount of questions. "Lucy, listen to your questions. How can someone possibly answer any of those questions without something sticking out? She was lying to me the whole time."

I slightly frowned, feeling a pang of empathy at his depressing tone. I rested my hand on his, gently making circular motions on his knuckles as an indication that I knew how he felt. And I did. Being wrapped in Amanda's lies and deceit was how I was caught up in this entire mess in the first place.

"So, the deal was that she'd give you the information?" I asked, just to be sure. He nodded in confirmation. I truly couldn't blame him. I believed that his intentions were to hurt me and that his allegiance was to Amanda, but this was a different view. Family went above anything else, especially his mother, who he thought the world of. He loved her more than life itself.

"Why didn't you warn me when Amanda wasn't around?" I inquired. "You had a lot of chances to get me alone. You really..." You really hurt me, I wanted to say. "You really should have told me."

He turned his hand and laced his fingers with mine, sending reassuring and pulsating squeezes my way. Remorse and guilt clouded his face.

"I couldn't," he gulped. "She had these photographers following me, literally watching my every move. She didn't even tell me. I knew that the amount of paparazzi was too much. I barely saw them take photos me once a month, so when I saw them everywhere I turned coincidentally after the deal, I knew it was Amanda's doing."

I thought about our harsh encounter after shooting, when he told me there were things I didn't know. He appeared extremely cautious, alert. It all clicked. I wanted to ask Ian if we were being watched in that alley too, but I already knew the answer.

"When did you find out that it was all fake?" I asked. "The hit and run."

"Here," he nodded. "I promise, if I would have known before, we wouldn't be here. She told me during the dinner rehearsal, where her family and my family all gathered together a couple of days ago and just mingled and got to know their in-laws a little better. Amanda was boasting about how much money she had to some of my family members and how she would send them money and all of this bullshit, so my relatives were all blinded by the money and they kept talking about how much they couldn't wait for me to get married to her. And then she told me the truth, but somehow, she convinced me to believe that everyone would be upset and angry with me if I'd break it off with her. I don't know _why_ I believed her. I swear, I wasn't thinking. I didn't _think_. I was just still so stunned that you and Brant were kissing and I actually thought for a moment that if I married Amanda, Brant would make you happy."

"But you called out our bluff, Ian," I reminded, my eyes slightly narrowing. I remembered his words well, like it was just an hour ago that the pool incident occurred. "You know that we were only pretending. I remember. You said that you knew we were only trying to taunt you. Well, you didn't _say_ it exactly, but I know that's what you meant."

"I knew _that_," he told me, looking at anything but me. "But your case and his case was different. Maybe _you_ were doing it to make me jealous, but he wasn't. He cares for you the way that I do."

I squinted, furrowing my eyebrows in the process. Was Ian saying that he cared about me as a friend? Or was he saying that _Brant_ cared about me as more than a friend?

As if reading my mind, Ian stated, "he's in love with you, Lucy. Or _likes_ you or _something_."

I shook my head almost immediately, my hair following the movement of my head. The brief talk we had about Janel before we left for Columbia Rose was too real to be fake. The look in his eyes, the tone of despair in his voice... it was all too genuine. I knew Brant loved her, not me. Brant's words rung in my head:

_'Let's just say I've been in the same position you're in right now. Being in love with someone you know you can't have because they're engaged.'_

"No, he doesn't," I insisted. "We're just friends."

Ian pursed his lips, looking at me like I was some lost kid with no knowledge of anything. I frowned, feeling an argument arising in the situation. I assumed it was only jealousy. I knew the truth. There was no need to prove it.

"Let's just move on," I rolled my eyes. There was no need to quarrel. We had more important matters at hand. "You were saying, you fell for her mind games and all that. So, then what? You were just planning to get married to a woman you knew had no morals?"

"Like I said, I was brainwashed. She told me everything I need to hear to go through with that wedding. I was just hoping you'd do something like object the wedding or kidnap me or whatever you had to do to stop that wedding. I couldn't do it by myself. I thought that if you didn't make the slightest effort to change what would happen that you had actually moved on."

I frowned, thoughtlessly leaning forward and placing my head on his shoulder. I sighed dramatically. "How'd we get into this mess?"

"One word: Amanda," he answered with a snort. I smiled, glancing at our hands, which were still locked together. I closed my eyes, allowing the sounds of my heavy breathing to take me into a state of bliss. I didn't want the moment to end. If I could choose to stay with Ian forever, I _would_. I could still say I loved him and furthermore, my feelings for him had increased, if that was even likely.

I felt his finger tap at my chin, causing me to look up at him. His towel had now flopped behind him in a mess, the towel _still_ looking odd in such a plain colored room.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. I could feel his warm breath dawdle against my face, causing me to shiver. "Forgive me, please."

"No," I answered, hiding the smile that threatened to form as the vertexes of my lips quivered. I saw him lean forward, the bridge of his nose neighboring mine.

"Forgive me," he repeated, his tone hushed and whispered this time around. Unable to resist, I crashed my lips against his, our lips creating a smacking sound in the process. My breath was caught in my throat from time to time as we kissed. This was something much more different than kissing as Aria and Ezra. We were kissing like we _loved_ each other. And even if it wasn't reality and our moment would only last for such a short time, I was just happy being in that moment with him.

I pulled away, wanting to say one more thing before going up to my room.

"I love you, Ian."

He toyed with the front parts of my hair, bringing a cluster behind my ear. He licked his lower lip slowly.

"I love you too, Lucy."

* * *

"I did!" I exclaimed, laughing with Ian in harmony as I clutched my coffee cup in one hand and gently nudged Ian with the other.

"You did _not_ climb down a tree to escape those minions," he shook his head, his grin stretching to the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He took a sip of his coffee as I laughed even harder at the idea. It had to admit, it was pretty ridiculous sounding, but it was the absolute truth.

"I swear it, I swear it on my album," I vowed, "and you _know_ that album is my baby, so I wouldn't lie about it."

"I thought I was your baby," Ian inspected as he lowered his coffee cup from his face.

"You are," I confirmed, nervously chuckling and looking down at my mug to allow my wavy brown hair to fall in front of my face, hiding my approaching blush.

Silence and serenity engulfed Ian's living room. Not even the crickets that should have been out chirping at three in the morning were absent. My third cup of coffee was beginning to eliminate my caffeine buzz and if I was going to get home to rest for a photoshoot with Allure Magazine, my meeting with Mario and a few other publicists, and late night shooting for the show all tomorrow, I had to be home to get at least an hour of rest.

"It's getting late," I sighed, pushing my hair back and giving him a smile. "I think it's probably best if I go home."

He followed my lead as I stood up from the comfortable sectional sofa and stretched out my limbs, sending a sensation through out my body. I let out a groan, inhaling a gulp of breath soon after.

"You should stay," he suggested as his facial expressions shifted into expectancy. "Get some rest here. It's really late and I don't want you to fall asleep on the road and end up being bed buddies with Janel."

I smiled, stifling a yawn so his point wouldn't be blatantly proven. I bit the insides of my cheek, contemplating all my choices. It wasn't the best idea to stay at his place. He knew it and I knew it. It had only been a couple of days since the downfall of the wedding and we had gotten into Los Angeles the day before to jump back into our business schedules and make up for all the days we've been absent. Ian had a lot of work to do with the divorce papers, which he'd be meeting with an attorney in a couple of days, according to him.

We were back on good terms. The best of terms, actually. Somehow, the horrific journey Amanda took us through strengthened our friendship twice as much as before. Just a week ago, Ian could barely look at me but now, we were looking for every chance to get a conversation started in between our busy schedules. The middle of the night was the best time to do it, only because I had a very packed schedule that Mario built for me to clear any bad reputation I had clinging to my name. After I told my publicist the truth about the case of events, he knew just like I did that there was urgent work to be done.

In the midst of it all, Ian and I hadn't kissed since our time in the private room at Columbia Rose. I didn't know why he didn't make a move, but I didn't want to take things too fast, too soon, or else everything we worked on building would fall apart in due time. I didn't want that happening, not when we just regained our friendship back. So, was staying at his place the best decision?

I tilted my head, deciding that one bad idea couldn't cause a chain reaction anymore. Nodding my head in agreement, he smiled and set his coffee next to mine on the table. _  
_

"Come upstairs," he said. "You can choose what you want to wear to sleep."

I nodded, hoping he had something really loose for me to wear. Early summer had already arrived and even at nighttime, where the air was meant to be chill, the outside was absolutely sweltering. I followed him up the stairs, grabbing my satchel in the process. We passed the stairs to the attic, but didn't go up. The memory of the painting clouded my thoughts too, and by the way Ian glanced behind me and bit his upper lip nervously, I could decipher he was thinking the same too.

But the past was the past. He had done what he had to do for his reasons. The important thing was that it was _over_ and we were friends.

He opened the door to his room, something I had only seen once when he was giving me a grand tour of the house the first week he got it. Unlike the living room, Amanda hadn't gotten him to change anything in there. It wasn't color coordinated like the white, pink, and silver living room. It was just an assortment of colors that all clashed beautifully together. The only thing that struck me odd was the pink vanity. Judging by the magnificent state of it, I assumed it was brand new, which meant it had to belong to Amanda.

I set my satchel on the nightstand, knowing I'd come back to it at a later time. I snaked through, reaching Ian, who was leaning down and using his firm hands to ruffle through the cabinet of clothes. I looked behind me and saw the only thing that wasn't neat, with the exception of the top of the vanity, was the bed. The edges of the comforter was flipped and sprawled on the bed in a messy fashion, the doings of a rushed person.

"Did Amanda sleep here with you?" I blurted out, instantly regretting my words. I lurched my head forward to look at Ian, who seemed to be frozen. He, slowly, turned around and glanced at the bed, looking up at me afterwards with an uneasy look.

"She—"

"No, actually, you don't have to answer that," I shook my head rapidly. "It wasn't right of me to ask. I'm sorry."

He examined me carefully, seeming to know that it was bothering me. I put on a smile, showing him that I meant what I said. I internally rolled my eyes at myself for my idiotic mistake. It certainly wasn't right of me to ask that.

As Ian went back into the cabinet, my mind trailed back to the bed... and the day at the convenience store. He had grabbed a stack of condoms, but did he really use them? I held back a scoff. Of course he did. Sleazy Amanda couldn't go a day without advertising her curvaceous figure. I couldn't blame it on Ian.

"Is this good?" Ian turned around and found a long sleeved, white button up shirt. "I figured you could wear it over your leggings."

I nodded, accepting the shirt and turning around to exit the room. "Do you think I could take a shower before sleeping?"

"Of course," he said. "Go ahead."

In minutes, I was in and out of the shower and changed out of the tightened clothes I had been in before. I found my way back into the bedroom, leaning on the door frame. Ian, who was laid on top of the bed in nothing but sweatpants, held his smartphone close to his face. I cleared my throat as a sign of my presence, which got his attention. I pretended not to notice the rundown stare he gave me, from head to toe.

"Hi," he acknowledged. "Should I show you to your room? The guest room is downstairs."

I cocked an eyebrow, resisting the urge to look behind me. "Wouldn't you rather we share a room?"

It was against my better judgement, I knew, but his house was too big and I'd feel a little too lonely. Ian, in response, shifted himself over to one side of the bed, leaving me a vast margin to claim. I swung the door behind me so that it was merely ajar and tiptoed across to the bed, my bare feet hitting a creak in the process on the carpeted floors. I climbed in hesitantly.

"Should I close the light?" I offered, seeing as I was laying right next to the nightstand.

"Yeah."

I leaned over and pulled a string that hung from the lamp. The lights went off in an instant, blowing away a source of brightness. I squinted, getting adjusted to the darkness before laying down. I could distinguish Ian's silhouette in the darkened room.

My heart began racing as I saw him closing the space between us. Our legs intuitively convoluted together as I made the first move by pressing our lips together. A sudden rush of oxygen took over me. I had almost forgotten the way Ian was able to give me a flow of euphoria, only to take it away from me and have my breath become caught in my throat at his tender actions. I was so happy, so amazingly happy that we could kiss without being in the interiors of our characters; just being Lucy and Ian was impeccable enough for me.

I couldn't remember when we stopped— or even _if_ we stopped, for that matter. All I remember was opening my eyes and staring up at the ceiling that didn't belong to my room. I took a moment to step into reality, stretching out my limbs on the bed with a sigh and shifting my body to the right. Ian's side of the bed had been taken up by pillows and sheets, but no Ian.

I climbed out of the bed, trying to avoid the creak in the floor. I opened the door, light spilling from every single angle through both windows in the hall. A sweet smelling aroma filled my nose. My stomach rumbled. I followed the scent down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Ian was. His tall figure stood in front of the kitchen stove, using a spatula to flip something that looked like an omelet. I gave him a rundown from head to toe, just like he did to me the night before. He was in a new pair of sweatpants but his upper half was still exposed, and I couldn't complain at all.

"Good morning," I called out, fixing the left shoulder of my shirt, which was draping to the left. He turned around, a smile forming.

"Good morning, princess," he replied. I walked over to him, eyeing the few pans on the stove. He grabbed a plate from one of the cupboards and picked up the omelet with a spatula, gracefully placing it on the plate and setting it down on the counter. He picked up a piece of toast, which was golden and crispy looking, and set it right on the plate. He set it on the dining room table, motioning for me to come and eat. His plate was also on the table.

"You're so sweet for cooking this," I praised. "Thank you."

"Anytime for you," he acclaimed, causing me to grin. Before he sat down, he snuck in a quick cheek kiss, leaving the scent of cinnamon.

"Couldn't get enough from last night?" I teased, picking up my toast at once and taking a bite from it.

"Maybe not, but it seemed like you got enough," he grinned, an elusive look crossing his face.

"What do you mean?"

He put his palm to his forehead, a laugh escaping his lips. "You fell asleep while we were making out, Luce."

My lips parted, creating an oval shape with my mouth. "Are you serious?"

He nodded, holding back his next laughs. I let out a moan, covering my face in humiliation. It was probably the weirdest thing I had ever done in front of him. I hoped he didn't think I fell asleep because I wasn't interested or anything. I was exhausted.

"It's okay, Lucy," he chuckled, bringing his hands to pull my hands away from my face. My lips curved into a pout before biting on my lower lip.

"I'll make it up to you," I promised, setting my fork down and standing up. I wiggled my finger and winked, motioning for him to follow me into the living room. Just as last night, I made the first move and wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on my toes to embrace him in a welcoming kiss. I felt his hand slide down to the back of my upper thighs as he lifted me up. I fastened my legs around his torso as we toppled to the sofa in a haze, continuing to passionately and intensely kiss.

_'...called off. We're very happy with our decision.'_

Both of our heads jerked away from each other. His widened eyes mimicked mine as we turned around to look at the sound of the very familiar voice. The television was on, and on it was a woman the both of us knew too well.

_"So, where are you and Mr. Harding going from here?"_ an interviewer asked, lowering her card away from her face and crossing her legs formally, staring intently at the woman in front of her.

_"Well, the both of us are still friends,"_ Amanda confirmed. _"And we'll continue to be friends for the next eighteen years."_

_"Why eighteen years?"_ the interviewer inquired. Amanda looked at the audience, chuckling.

_"I'm pregnant, with his baby. And in order to raise a baby, the parents have to be friends first_."

I heard the vast majority of audience gasp in shock. Ian did a little wheeze himself. But I could assure that no one was as shocked as I was at that point. I jerked my head from the television screen and to Ian, staring at him attentively. He seemed genuinely confused, but he _surely_ had to know such important information.

Right?

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demand, abandoning the straddling position I had on him and standing up. He got out of his seat as well, shaking his head ferociously.

"I swear on my mother's grave that I had absolutely no idea about this," he asserted. Something about him made me believe that he wasn't lying. I knew when he was acting and when he wasn't being truthful, and this was one of these times.

Looking back at the television, I caught one more line coming from Amanda.

_"We're going to be amazing parents, you'll see."_

* * *

**A/N: I couldn't leave this chapter ending without another bomb, so there you guys go. What'd you think of this chapter overall? How do you think Lucian is going to go through with this whole baby thing? Are they going to last any longer? Don't forget to review, follow, and favorite and I'll see ya'll in the next chapter :)**


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